


Sing, Goddess, of the Wrath of Scott

by RhysLahey



Category: Teen Wolf (TV), The Iliad - Homer
Genre: Alternate Universe - Trojan War Setting (Ancient Greek Religion & Lore), At least three characters get their own epic spin-off, Death, Derek Hale is also very angry, Drama, Epic, F/M, Fate, Greek Epic, Homeric, I actually did translations of the Greek and Latin bits, I'll add more as I think of suitable tags, Isaac Lahey/Scott McCall Feels, It's all very intense, M/M, Peter Hale is Not Amused, Scott McCall is very angry, Stiles is a wuss, The Iliad, The Iliad References, Theo is actually a good guy, Trojan War, Unrequited Crush, War, do not bring in that HORSE
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-13
Updated: 2020-08-26
Packaged: 2021-01-29 23:32:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 10
Words: 50,543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21418492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RhysLahey/pseuds/RhysLahey
Summary: Scott and the rest of the Achaean army have been at the walls of Troy for ten long years, fighting a never-ending war after Stiles ran away with Derek's bride Allison during their wedding night. There may be a wooden horse somewhere.
Relationships: Allison Argent/Derek Hale, Allison Argent/Stiles Stilinski, Isaac Lahey/Scott McCall, Kate Argent/Peter Hale, Liam Dunbar/Scott McCall, Melissa McCall/Rafael McCall, Peter Hale/Kira Yukimura, Scott McCall/Kira Yukimura, Theo Raeken/Hayden Romero
Comments: 2
Kudos: 10





	1. Dramatis personae

**Author's Note:**

> I had horrible flashbacks of Greek translation the other day when my train was delayed and I thought that some characters of the Iliad actually fit quite nicely with those of Teen Wolf. This is the unholy result. It will follow closely the Iliad, but throwing in a few other bits and pieces of myth to create a longer narrative of the war (sorry, Homer, but not everyone knows the entire story nowadays; I can't just start with Achilles being moody in camp).
> 
> As in the acutal Iliad, there will be plenty of gore and especially death - I cannot underline this enough. Everybody (almost) *will* die. But they will be epic, noble, and over-the-top heroic deaths, all worth it. And all because of the face that launched a thousand ships...
> 
> PS: I'd be eternally grateful to any caring soul willing to help out and beta some bits of text!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Trojan War, as it should have never been told.

_Μῆνιν ἄειδε, θεά, Πηληϊάδεω Ἀχιλῆος_

_Sing, goddess, of the wrath of Achiles Peleiadeos_

## For the Achaeans (Greeks)

  * Alan Deaton as Nestor
  * Brett Talbot as Diomedes
  * Camden Lahey as Teucer of Salamis
  * Chris Argent as Tyndaraeus of Sparta
  * Derek Hale as Menelaus
  * Ethan and Aiden as Castor and Pollux
  * Isaac Lahey as Ajax Telamonius
  * Kate Argent as Clitemnestra
  * Liam Dunbar as Patroclus
  * Mason Hewitt as Ulysses
  * Melissa McCall as Thetis
  * Nolan as Thersites
  * Peter Hale as Agamemnon
  * Scott McCall as Achilles
  * Victoria Argent as Leda

## For the Trojans

  * Allison Argent as Helen
  * Brunski as Dolon
  * Deputy Haigh as Antenor
  * Ennis as Pandarus
  * Hayden Romero as Andromache
  * Jackson Whittemore as Aeneas
  * Kira Yokimura as Briseis
  * Lydia Martin as Cassandra
  * Malia Tate as Penthiseleia, queen of the Amazons
  * Noah Stilinski as King Priam of Troy
  * Stiles Stilinski as Paris
  * Theo Raeken as Hector


	2. Prooemion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles is asked to judge in a contest, where the prize is an apple. Meanwhile in Sparta the Achaeans have an argument over princess Allison.

On the slopes of Mount Pelion, a wedding between a mortal man and a marine goddess was held many years ago.

In the ancient times these unions were not that uncommon. Some mortals were lured by gods into having affairs and many ended up turning into loving and caring marriages – even if Father Zeus had a different attitude when it came to interacting with mortals. But this particular wedding had been the result of a mortal seeking a goddess, rather than the other way round. Rafael, of the McCall line, and king of the Myrmidons, had been told in a prophecy that he would have a son who would be the greatest hero of all the Achaeans. Knowing that his own name and that of his family would live through the fame of his son, he decided not to tempt fate and to find an adequate wife who would give him a heroic child. For this purpose he went around the shores of his homeland, knowing that the sea nymphs liked to rest there, basking in the sun. One day he was lucky enough to spot Melissa, one of the Nereids.

Rafael noticed that she was asleep, and quickly tied her down with rope and covering her with a sack, binding her so she would not escape. Melissa did not take this happily, and fought back, changing shapes and transforming herself into water, a snake, a flaming fire, and even a lioness, but Rafael held her tight against the sand until she gave up. When she calmed down, he told her about the prophecy, about how they could have a son who would be praised amongst the mortals as a hero. That appeal warmed Melissa’s heart, for she had always wanted to have a son. Ever since she refused Zeus’ advances on her, the father of the gods had decreed that she would bear no child of a god. Melissa had thus thought that she would never have a child of her own, but now she was faced by a mortal who wanted to marry her, with the promise of a heroic son. After a few quiet moments of thought, and when Rafael finally unfastened her, she smiled and agreed to marry him.

After the ceremony, which was hosted by Zeus himself and officiated by Chiron, the wisest of the centaurs, the guests approached the newlyweds with their presents. The gods gave their gifts to Rafael, including a spear fitted by Hephaistos, a basket of divine salt from Nereos (the father of the bride) and a pair of golden-winged sandals by Zeus. Poseidon gave him, on top of these, two magnificent and immortal horses. For Melissa, the goddesses brought a golden bowl (presented by Aphrodite), a dress finely woven by Hera, and a magical flute created by Athena.

Many other deities had been invited, as well as mortal queens and kings. They partied until dawn, dancing to music played by Apollo and the muses, and Melissa and Rafael were, during that night, truly happy.

But of all the gods of Olympus, one was not invited to the wedding. Eris, the goddess of discord, was left out. From the clouds that circled the snowy peaks of Mount Pelion she watched the couple dance. She saw them enjoy their wedding and she saw them lying in bed together after all the guests were gone. And at that very moment she knew how she would get her revenge on the McCalls.

***

Nine months later, a boy was born to Melissa, whom she named Scott. He was the most beautiful baby she had ever seen, with his dark, thick hair, his chubby and wrinkly cheeks, and his little hands that curled around his mother’s finger. Melissa and Rafael were as happy as any new parents could be, but Melissa was suddenly very aware of what Rafael’s prophecy implied – as the greatest heroes are not only famous for their epic deeds, but also renowned for their heroic deaths. The thought of losing her son troubled her greatly, so one night she brought him down to the Underworld.

On the banks of the river Styx, the goddess dipped her baby, holding him by his heel. Wherever the child’s skin was covered by the divine waters, his skin became almost invulnerable. And so, when she brought the crying baby back into her hands, all of his skin had been protected. All but the left heel from which he had been suspended.

High above, from the cavernous entrance that led into Hades, Eris watched and waited.

***

Many years later, on the slopes of Mount Ida, young Stiles, son of Noah, King of Troy, was walking in the woods, herding his cattle, unaccompanied and armed solely with his staff. He was a fine young man, with a handsome face with big eyes and a small nose. His skin was light and his body lean. He was not famed in battle, even if he was an accomplished hunter, but he was crafty and astute.

As he wondered with his herd, a warm gust of wind that scared his cattle away came out of nowhere. Annoyed at this, Stiles looked up, ready to swear and curse at whomever had done that, but he refrained himself, because behind him was Hermes, messenger of the gods, tapping him gently on the shoulder with his caduceus.

“Stiles, Prince of Troy, come with me.”

“Hermes, son of… Zeus? I can never remember… There’s too many. Anyway, what have I done _now_, that the gods require of my services in such a hurry?”

“It has been decided that you shall judge in a contest,” Hermes insisted without any further explanation as he gently pushed Stiles, leading him to their destination.

“Oh, I can certainly do that,” Stiles replied, accompanying the Messenger. “What do I need to judge?”

“You must award this golden apple, given to me by Zeus for you,” Hermes said as he produced said fruit out of thin air.

“_τῇ καλλίστῃ_… ‘for the fairest’?” Stiles read aloud the inscription on the golden fruit. His Greek had never been good, but he still could read it. “Is this a beauty contest?” he added with a knowing smile.

“I’m afraid it is. Be careful, though. The contestants will try to gain your favour with presents and gifts, but you must judge wisely, following your own heart, and not based on those bribes.”

“What kind of bribes are we talking about?” Stiles asked, still looking at the apple, but Hermes was not there anymore. “Hello?”

Stiles was in a clearing in the forest, in the centre of which there was a pooling spring. It was not a part of the forest he recognised, even if he had hunted around this area all of his life. He turned around, trying to find his bearings, and when he completed the circle he saw three women in front of him. Or rather, three goddesses sat by the water pool.

“Greetings, Stiles, son of Noah, son of Laomedon, prince of the Trojans,” a first goddess said.

Stiles instinctively kneeled down and lowered his head, for the first goddess to address him had been Hera, queen of Olympus and wife of Zeus.

“My lady Hera, and ladies Aphrodite and Athena,” Stiles said nervously. This was not the idea of judging a beauty contest he had in mind. “Hermes, shepherd of men, has brought me here, apparently to judge in a contest.”

“That is right, Stiles,” Athena, goddess of wisdom, confirmed his fears. He had to judge the beauty of three goddesses, knowing very well that it would grant him two eternal enemies. “Has my brother explained?”

“He has, my Lady. I am to give this apple to the fairest.”

Stiles lifted the apple and showed it to the three goddesses.

“That is right,” Aphrodite, goddess of love, confirmed with a mellifluous voice. “You are the mortal who shall decide which of us is the fairest goddess on Olympus.”

“Do you know about this apple?”

“Only that Hermes lobbed it at me and that it was to be awarded to whom my heart thought to be the most beautiful.”

“That is correct, but it is not all the truth,” Hera clarified. “That is an apple from the garden of Hesperides, the islands at the end of the world.”

“Uh…”

“It does not belong to the world of mortals, so you must hand it over.”

“And the fate of the world will depend on your choice.”

_Of course_, Stiles thought. He clearly had not enough problems of his own, now he had the fate of the world to decide.

“Just follow your heart, and award the apple to the most deserving,” Hera added with a smile.

“Could I please have a minute?” Stiles requested after a short but still uncomfortable pause.

“Certainly,” Athena said, and the three goddesses disappeared from his sight.

Stiles walked around the forest for a few minutes, until he found an oak stump to which to sit, the remains of a nemeton, one of the sacred groves of the men of a previous age. He rested his staff against it and looked intently at the apple, as if the golden fruit could give him the answer he needed.

“Shiny apple from the tree… who’s the fairest of those three?” he sighed.

Stiles felt a warm presence materialising right behind him.

“Lady Hera!”

“Oh, don’t worry, my dear child,” Hera said with a warm and inviting voice. The goddess was clad in an immaculate and colourful dress, and was crowned with silver and pearls. Her dark hair was curly, and fell in neat locks behind her shoulders. Stiles was lost in her eyes, which were deep and brown. They were strangely welcoming and motherly, and her entire face was comforting and serene. Her cheeks were high and regally chiselled, and they framed a perfect smile.

“My Lady, I am humbled by your visit,” Stiles managed to say, “but how could I judge between the three of you?”

“Stiles, I am the queen of Olympus, and mother of you all,” Hera said in a tone so homely and warm that Stiles felt that he was home with her own mother. “But you can win a special place in my heart. There are many things I could do for you, you realise, in exchange for this prize. I could make you a powerful conqueror, and grant you the rule over the two shores of the sea” the goddess said as she circled Stiles, caressing him carefully with her soft hands. “You would be king of Asia and of Europe, a kingdom larger than your fathers, and mightier than any of your enemies…”

“But my Lady…”

But when Stiles turned around, she had gone.

“Oh, boy…” Stiles shook his head as he pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Stiles,” a voice called him

“Bright-eyed Athena, daughter of Zeus!” Stiles quickly blurted. “Why are the gods torturing me with this decision?”

The goddess looked at Stiles intently, and she rested her hand on his shoulder. A calming feeling immediately rushed through his body, so he looked up into the grey-eyed goddess. She was clad in a pure white dress of the softest wool, the folds of which hanged perfectly from the owl-brooch on her shoulder. The dress was tight around her waist, and kept in place by a thin, bright red leather belt and a chain of gold. She had her helmet on her head, which partly covered her soft brown locks, but which highlighted her perfect face and its soft features.

“You have been chosen by Father Zeus,” the goddess continued. “This is a decision you cannot avoid. But it does not mean that you cannot make the most of it. If you chose me,” Athena added, as she removed her helmet and placed it softly on Stiles’ head, “you will gain the skills and the knowledge that will allow you to win any battle. You will obtain fame and glory by your deeds in the fight, and will always come out victorious.”

Stiles closed his eyes as the helmet landed on his head. His mind was suddenly flooded of visions of him commanding his father’s army, going to war with the Amazons, the Aethiopians, and the Achaeans across the sea. He could feel the euphoria that came with victory, and the rush of adrenaline as he charged into battle. And then it all disappeared. Stiles opened his eyes and was alone again.

“Oh, gods, nothing good can come out of this!”

“Are you sure?”

Stiles jumped a foot in the air as he sensed Aphrodite, goddess of love, appearing besides him. Her thin gauze dress was virtually see-through, leaving nothing to his imagination. Stiles could see her perfect skin, he could smell her sweet scent, and he could almost touch her soft hair. Aphrodite’s simple presence was enough to accelerate his pulse, to make his cheeks blush, and to feel the rush of blood towards his groin.

“M- m- my Lady Aphrodite,” Stiles stuttered as he tried to move away, but the goddess kept on getting closer into his space. “I- I- I- can’t… How could…”

“My dear Stiles, my prince, my _champion_,” she said with a sweet and warm voice and a gentle laugh which melted Stiles’ insides. “You know deep in your heart that there can only be one winner. And you can make the most out of it. My aunt and sister will have probably promised you fame, and fortune, and power, but what are those worth, when compared with your own happiness? What is the point of victory after the celebration is over? And fame and power? Mortals are not suited for either, for they get lost in it, until they are consumed by their shadowy innermost passions, always seeking and wanting _more_.”

Stiles was beginning to sweat as Aphrodite placed her fingers under his chin and put her crossed legs over his, so before he could realise what was happening the goddess was sitting on his lap.

“I offer you the one thing to live for. I offer you _love_,” the goddess murmured into his ear, Stiles gulped. “You, Stiles; you will have the most beautiful woman on Earth, and she will love you back and will be yours forever.”

The goddess’ lips were touching Stiles’ earlobe, and his hands were trembling in excitement. He was about to turn around to face the goddess, but in that instant she was gone.

“Curses and damnation!” Stiles punched the tree stump in frustration.

“It is time,” a new voice called behind him. Stiles was so frightened by this sudden call that he fell off of the stump.

“Who- what- Hermes? Immortal gods! You nearly killed me!” Stiles complained, clutching his chest as his heart pounded.

“Come on, mortal. I haven’t got all day,” Hermes clicked his tongue and prodded the human with his caduceus.

They walked back to the spring where the goddesses were waiting already. Stiles felt sweat pearling on his forehead and his mouth run dry. Somehow, the apple was still in his hand, with its cursed inscription almost burning into his palm.

“The moment has arrived, Stiles, son of Noah, prince of Troy, to adjudicate the prize,” Hermes announced. “Be true to your heart, and Father Zeus will smile upon you.”

With that vague promise, Stiles stepped forward and looked at the three goddesses. All of them were extremely beautiful, even if each in their own way. Each goddess appealed to something different inside him. Hera attracted his family instinct; the comfort of a home, a family, and a long cosy life. She was also indubitably beautiful, with the best proportioned features and those_ eyes_ which called him and attracted him like nothing else. Athena naturally appealed to his rational side, of delightful conversations, witty comments and the feeling of having found a twin soul with which to spend the rest of his life talking. She was certainly pretty, even if in a slight more distant and melancholic way, a beauty to admire and to revere. Nothing to do with Aphrodite, who was all allure and desire, maybe not from his heart, but certainly from his lower body. Stiles thought carefully in silence, as the three goddesses waited patiently. He closed his eyes, and in his heart he knew Hera was to win… but his mind and his crotch were thinking something else.

“M- m- my choice is Lady Aphrodite!” she managed to blurt. “_She_ is the fairest goddess on Olympus.”

Stiles handed over the apple, and the goddess immediately filled her champion with warmth and ecstasy out of the pure joy she felt in her heart. Stiles was in so much pleasure that he did not see the two other goddesses storm away from the Ida spring, and did not hear their promises of revenge and retribution. Stiles most definitely did not see Eris standing behind him with a sly smile on her cold face.

***

At the same time, Chris, son of Gerard, of the line of the Argents, and king of the Spartans, held a banquet in his palace. He had invited the bravest and the wisest kings of the Achaeans to celebrate that her daughter was to be married.

Sat at the royal table was the king’s family. First by his side was his wife Victoria. Next on the right was their eldest daughter, Allison. She was a mighty warrior herself, a master of the bow, and an intelligent and natural leader. Because of her dark, long hair, her deep brown eyes and her divinely proportioned face, she was reckoned as the most beautiful woman in Greece and the entire world. To the king’s other side here were the his handsome twin sons Ethan and Aiden, who were tall and lean, with prominent noses and strong jawlines, although they were better known for their short temper.

In front of them sat a large number of kings and princes, all present there to ask for Allison’s hand. The suitors with their trusted men had gathered in separate tables and were enjoying the king’s hospitality, drinking his wine and eating his food.

The first and closest party to the royal table was that of Derek, son of Thalia who was sitting also with his uncle Peter. Both men of the Hale family had the same strong face and strong jaw. Peter was slightly older, but he was the king of Mycenae, the strongest city of the Achaeans. He was himself the most powerful king that side of the Ocean. He was a ruthless leader, and a very intelligent tactician. He had already married Chris’ sister Kate, whose long golden hair framed a pair of fierce eyes that matched her character. With her he had two small children: Electra and Orestes. His nephew Derek was the better warrior of the two, lest prudent than his uncle, and more likely to take offense. He was craving a kingdom of his own, and he hoped that by marrying Allison he may take eventually over the throne of Sparta. Derek first saw Allison that evening, but immediately he felt Eros kicking him in the gut. For the entire duration of the feast he could not take his eyes from her, and felt his heart melt every time that she would look directly at him. From that moment on, Derek knew he would not love any other woman in his life.

Next was Isaac of Aegina and Salamis, of the line of the Laheys, and descendant of Zeus. He was the eldest son of Telamon, king of the Islands, who in his youth had gone with Jason on the Argo on his quest for the Golden Fleece. Isaac was the tallest of the Achaeans, one of the most handsome, and truly one of the toughest. His shoulders were broad and his arms were strong, hardened by fighting and rowing. His eyes were ocean blue, while his hair was golden, and he kept his small curls clipped short. Even if he was at a king’s feast, Isaac still wore his bronze-studded leather armour, and behind him he had left his famous round shield, which was so heavy that no other warrior could lift it.

Mason, son of Laërtes, king of Ithaca sat next to Isaac, with whom he was good friends. Of all the princes of the Achaeans, Mason was perhaps not the wisest (a title that all the Achaeans agreed belonged to king Deaton of Pylos), but certainly the most ingenious, quick of wit, skilled, and resourceful. He was not as mighty in arms as the Hales, nor was he as tall as Isaac, but he was not an opponent to be quickly dismissed, for his talent with the bow was legendary.

Besides mason sat Liam, prince of the Locrians, who had removed the sleeves of his green tunic so his bulging arms could be seen by all. Liam kept his short, brown hair tightly bound to his head with a pure white diadem, that make his blue eyes stand out from his handsome face. He was famous for being a friend and companion of Scott McCall, whom he had helped in many battles which earned him a fierce reputation. Because, despite his humble appearance and short stature, Liam was a mighty warrior who had beaten many enemies in battle, and was quick to punish any insult.

These and many other minor warriors had come to Chris’ palace hoping to gain Allison’s hand willingly. After the banquet, each of the princes and kings walked into the royal hall and offered King Chris many rich presents: bronze tripods, bottles of frankinsence and perfumes, fine woollen clothes, soft otter pelts, bags of amber, and many bronze weapons. Each suitor outdid the one that preceded him, and Chris was overwhelmed by the large quantity of treasure he was being offered. It all got to a point when Chris had to refuse all of them, fearing that they may start a quarrel in his own palace, offended by him and by each other.

Loud voices grew from the ranks of the Achaean princes. They demanded to know whom Allison wanted to marry, or whom Chris had decided should take her hand. The argument grew louder and rowdier. Eventually, Chris’ fears became a reality, as weapons were drawn and insults were exchanged. Thankfully, Mason of many talents stepped forward and put his arms up.

“Achaeans, countrymen, princes and kings! I beg you please stop your quarrelling. We are guests at King Chris’ palace,” Mason cried aloud, appealing to their sense of decorum and of duty to their host. Everyone fell silent. “Fighting amongst ourselves will not solve our problem, because even if we all want fair Allison’s hand, she cannot marry us all. Nor would it be just to expect her to marry against her will, regardless of the many treasures and presents we give to her father.”

The crowd was sufficiently chastised at this, and there was a general murmur of approval in the hall.

“That is why.” Mason continued, “I have a suggestion, for you generous King Chris and for all of the other princes of the Achaeans gathered here. I propose that we ask Allison whom she prefers out of all of us, and I propose that we accept her decision. I propose that we all take an oath here and now, in front of our fellow mortals and the gods above, to protect Allison and whomever she freely choses!”

The Achaeans roared in approval. Mason bowed to Chris and to Allison, a gesture the king of Sparta returned gratefully. On the floor, Derek and Liam were the first to pull out their swords, rising them up above their heads as they howled their oaths in their own name and that of their people. Isaac stood up next, towering above the rest, and swore the oath with his fist on his chest. Peter was up next, bowing to Chris and Allison. He then held up a cup and toasted to the gods above and below that he would protect Allison, her honour, and her family. Other princes of distant and minor lands swore in similar fashions, and they all went quiet when Allison slowly stood up and walked to the centre of the hall.

“My lords, no princess would ever be as flattered as I am right now, knowing that the mighty and powerful of the Achaeans are willing to protect me rather than fight for me.” Allison turned around to face all the people gathered there for her, looking at all of them in the eye, as if trying to thank every single one of them personally. “I am also greatly honoured that princes and kings are willing to accept a princess’ decision. So I first of all have to thank you all for your kind words.”

The entire hall exploded in a roar of approval, as warriors bashed their shields with their shiny spears, brought their fists loudly on the tables, and stomped the floor.

“And now, knowing that you all have sworn on the gods above, I must make my choice. It is my decision,” she continued after a pause, “that the man whom I will marry shall be Derek, prince of Mycenae, son of Thalia, of the line of the Hales.”

The gathered Achaeans howled even louder. The clapping of hands, the bashing of shields, and the stomping of the floor was near deafening. Peter patted his nephew on the shoulder and courteously bowed to Allison. Derek, with tears of pure joy in his eyes, took a step forward towards the Spartan princess, who gently offered her hand. Both then looked at Chris, who nodded solemnly with a smile. With her father’s approval, Derek took Allison’s hand with the brightest smile a man could ever have and softly kissed it. Allison found herself rubbing her eyes, as they were suddenly also full of tears.

***

The wedding was planned for the following month. Apart from those Achaeans who had been at Chris’ palace when Allison chose her suitor (all of whom had promised to attend the ceremony) many other princes and kings of Greece and beyond were invited, loading Chris with gifts and wishing the newlyweds all their bests.

One of the first people to arrive was Scott McCall, king of the Myrmidons. Scott was acknowledged as the most famous warrior of Greece and all the Achaeans gathered at the palace wanted to greet him, and to hear the stories of his combats. He was brave in battle, strong as a score of men, and almost invulnerable. His strong arm muscles were marked with two thick bands of black ink, a sign of his valour in combat. His face was sharp and his skin tanned. His black hair had been clipped short, giving his face a sterner look, despite the bright brown eyes he had got from his mother.

He came early to the wedding accompanied by Liam, who was his closest and most loyal companion. Liam was, furthermore, the object of Scott’s desire. This was the source of great despair for Isaac Telamonios, who had pined for Scott since they first fought together in battle. Every time during the wedding Isaac went around to see Scott, Liam would be right by his side, and no matter how hard he tried, Isaac never had a chance to have any time alone with his beloved.

The guests that nobody had expected had been the two sons of king Noah of Troy, Theo and Stiles. While Scott was the most famous of the Achaeans, Theo was the champion of the Trojans from across the sea. In many ways he was similar to Scott, strong, fast, crafty, brave, renown in battle, and skilled in many weapons. But Theo had light-coloured eyes and a fair skin, and where Scott had the shade of a beard, Theo kept his face clean and smooth. The two champions had never crossed swords in battle. On the contrary, they had fought together in a few occasions, and knew each other well.

They arrived late, after the couple had been wed and well into the dance. For this reason they rushed towards the king to pay their respects and offer their apologies. Despite this affront, King Chris was in good humour and dismissed the preoccupied princes, inviting them to join in the celebrations. The two brothers did so and followed the king to the court where the Achaeans were dancing. It was at that moment that Stiles saw Allison for the first time.

For Stiles, time seemed to stop. All the noises and sounds of the wedding faded into nothing, and all his universe became Allison. He had heard about the extreme beauty of the princess of Sparta, but he had never imagined that the truth would be so much _more_. His heart seemed to stop as he and his brother approached Derek and Allison, and his brother had to elbow him on the side so he would bow to them.

“Excuse my brother,” Theo explained. “He has had a long journey and has never been to an Achaean wedding before.”

“Well, please, enjoy your stay here,” Derek said with a big smile, his wife’s arm in his. “Please enjoy our wine and dance with our guests!”

“I was wondering,” Stiles said, still staring at Allison, “if I may be allowed to congratulate the bride and to ask her for a dance?”

“What do you say, my love?” Derek asked. “Would you honour our Trojan guests with a dance?”

“I do not see why not,” Allison replied.

Invisible to all the mortals, Aphrodite stood by Allison, and with her divine hands brought her and Stiles together. As the couple danced, the goddess brought them together physically and emotionally, until Derek vanished from Allison’s heart. In his place, Allison found that she only loved the newly arrived stranger from beyond the sea.

Aphrodite spent the rest of the evening distracting the Achaeans, keeping Derek busy wrestling with Isaac, drinking with Peter, reciting poems with Liam, and remembering old battles with Scott. They were all so occupied with the party that nobody noticed when Allison and Stiles scurried away to his chambers.

Way before Eos of rosy fingers rose up on the Eastern horizon, Stiles walked into his brothers chamber and waked him up.

“Brother, wake up,” he whispered. “Theo, listen, wake up,” he said more brusquely. “Theo!”

“What do you want, Stiles?” his brother said, wishing that he had either drank less or that he could die where he laid.

“Theo, we have to go.”

“What are you talking about?” Theo asked, barely managing to open his eyes.

“We have to go. _Now_!”

Theo suddenly opened his eyes fully, and saw that in front of him his little brother was with Allison, princess of Sparta and wife of Derek.

“What in Zeus’ name…”

“We can explain when we are safely aboard the ship,” Stiles insisted.

“Why have you got our host’s daughter with you in our chambers?” Theo said angrily in a muted tone.

“Brother, there is not time for this. This wedding was sanctioned by men, not by the gods. Aphrodite promised me the most beautiful woman on Earth, and yesterday I finally met her.”

“You have lost your mind, brother.”

“You can moan and complain all what you want, but can we do this on board?” Stiles insisted.

Theo was only slowly beginning to understand the implications, but by simply looking at his brother he knew that there was some truth behind this.

“You are really abducting a princess of the Achaeans, the bride of the brother of the most powerful king this side of the sea?”

“Theo, we are in love, and we belong to each other. The gods above understand that, why can’t you see that your little brother is begging for your help!”

“Please,” Allison said, seeing that the two brothers were going to continue their argument. “Mighty Theo, tamer of horses, believe me that I am not being compelled or taken against my will. I truly want to go to Troy with Stiles.”

“You are also insane. You have been cursed by Apollo,” Theo insisted in disbelief.

“Brother, we haven’t got much time!” Stiles pleaded.

Theo looked at his brother and at his newly found love. He reached for the cup of water by his couch and threw it over him rather than drink it. With a heavy sigh he stood up and silently went to gather his weapons and his armour.

“Stiles, when the gods meddle in the affairs of mortals, it is always us who suffer. Mark my words” he said as he poked his brother in the chest with his strong fingers. “May the gods have mercy on us.”

***

“Guards! Guards!” Derek called on the palace corridors. “Guards! Help! Allison is gone!”

The groom was still in his nuptial tunic, a large purple stain on his front. And while he was suffering from an excess of wine, his eyes were red in anger. Ethan and Aiden, Allison’s twin brothers, were the first to appear.

“What happened?”

“Where is she?”

“I woke up just now,” Derek explained panicking. “She was not in bed with me, nor was she in her own chambers.”

“Where could she be?”

“Whom was she last with?” Ethan asked.

“I can’t remember clearly…” the prince of Mycenae admitted.

“What’s wrong?” Isaac asked alarmed as he walked into Derek’s room, soon followed by Scott and (driving a dagger into Isaac’s heart) Liam.

“My wife… my wife!” Derek shouted. He was now shaking and close to tears, a mix of fear, anger and frustration. “My wife has been taken!”

“But how can that be? She was with us all along…”

“Except when she was dancing last.”

“And she was dancing with…” Ethan said, but could not finish his sentence.

“The Trojan prince,” Peter deadpanned from behind. He had just arrived, but he was already in his armour. “Make no mistake, we all might have been enjoying my nephew’s wedding, but it was that Trojan twerp who enjoyed his wife!”

At this clear accusation, Aiden and Ethan boiled in rage and insult. They tore their tunics open and pulled their daggers from their sheaths, thirsty for Trojan blood. Without any further warning, the twins rushed along the corridor towards the wing where the sons of Stilinski had been accommodated.

Once they got to Stiles’ and Theo’s chambers, they kicked the door open, calling them out like feral wolves. They kicked the beds over, opened the chests, and turned the baskets over, but no matter where they searched, there was no sign of their sister. There was no trace of their guests either: their weapons were gone, and their slaves had also fled.

Ethan looked at Aiden, who was trembling, failing to control his anger.

“We… we have failed her, brother. We have failed our _sister_. We have failed our father.”

“Aiden,” Ethan tried to calm his twin down, putting his hands up, “we can avenge our sister. There is still time. We can hunt the Trojans.”

“No! Can’t you see? It’s too late brother!” Aiden barked back, tears streaming down his face. “We swore to the gods that we would protect our sister. We promised out father that we would always be there for our family. And now… now we have failed.”

“Aiden, please,” Ethan was crying as well; not out of impotence and rage, but because of the dishonour they had brought to their family.

“Ethan, come,” Aiden begged as he kneeled down.

“Aiden…” Ethan sat down by his brother, his voice cracking. “Please.”

“We have failed, brother. We have failed our family.”

“We can still…” Ethan looked at Aiden, trying to convince him that there was a solution, but he could already see that his brother had made up his mind. “There has to be another way.”

“I cannot live with such shame and dishonour.” Aiden took the dagger in his hand and turned it around, point towards his chest. “I will see you in the afterlife, brother,” Aiden said as he pushed the dagger into him.

The world stopped as his twin fell into his arms. Ethan could only hold his brother and cry. He cried for their broken promise. He cried for their abducted sister. He cried for the shame that had befallen his father. And he cried, above all, for dear his brother, who was as much a part of him as his own arm.

Ethan wiped away his tears and searched for his dagger. He held it like his twin had done and, cursing Troy and all the Stilinski line, he drove it into his chest.

***

The palace was in chaos. Servants and guests had searched in vain for the Trojan princes and the king’s daughter. The bodies of the twins were brought to the front courtyard and placed on large pyres as Victoria and Kate mourned them. King Chris sat on his throne with his sword in his hand, while the guests swarm nervously around him. Before the second hour, a slave runs into the palace, confirming that the Trojan vessels have left with the tide.

“War!” cried the Achaeans. “Havoc!”

“Listen, please!” Mason called helplessly. Nobody listened. “We cannot wage war against Troy!”

“And why not?” Isaac defied. He had already summoned his warriors, and was resting his mighty mace casually upon his shoulder. “The Trojans have attacked us already. This has been a violation of our host’s hospitality. Will you have us sit at this insult and wait for them to apologise?”

“Sacred Troy is protected by the gods,” Mason cried. “Their walls are unsurpassable, and their towers unbreakable! It would be folly.”

“You,” Liam shouted accusingly, his voice all rage. “You were the one who had us swear an oath to protect Allison!”

“My wife has been taken,” Derek said with a deadly tone. “She has been abducted from her father’s house, with the cover of darkness, during her wedding night! This is a crime against her family. It is a crime against _my _family,” he said this, pointing at his uncle Peter, who smiled maliciously. “It is a crime against the gods!”

A large chorus of support roared again calling for war.

“Dark is the hour,” Peter said calmly, taking the stage. “And great are the crimes. But even greater is the strength and determination of the Achaeans!”

Mason tried to argue, but his pleas were silenced by the crowd.

“We indeed swore an oath,” Peter continued. “We swore an oath to the gods in this very throne room to protect Allison, to preserve the concord amongst the Achaeans. And now it is our enemies from across the sea who affront and injure us. Listen carefully, all of you. I _vow_ to you, here and now, that I will sail right away to the coasts of Asia and bring war to the Trojans!” another large cheer followed. “I will bring blood and destruction to the Trojans and will turn their city to dust! Their temples will crumble. Their wives will be taken back to Greece. And all memory of what Troy was will die under my sword!”

The eruption of voices and calls for war inundated the room.

“Achaeans, you all took an oath. I call you now to keep it! Who will join me?”

The cries for war intensified. The Achaeans all called as one to go to war to bring Troy down and bring Allison back.

In the morning, a thousand ships set sail for Ilion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, Achilles/Ajax never happened, I know - but I had to have some Scisaac. I'm sorry, I'm weak. Plus, knowing what happens in the end (hint, hint: a very angry Ajax and some sheep), it is not OOC *at all*. And also, the Dioscuri are simply mentioned as dead and buried by Homer, so I think their fate here was fittingly epic and tragic.
> 
> Any thoughts so far?


	3. Iram pande mihi

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the attackers' camp outside Troy, Peter and Scott have a row over Kira, with terrible consequences for the Achaeans.

_Iram pande mihi Pelidae, Diva, superbi_/ _tristia quae miseris iniecit funera Grais_

Unfold for me, goddess, the wrath of the proud son of Peleos/ which hurled sad funerals at the unhappy Greeks

***

“It has been nine years, uncle,” Derek said from a corner of Peter’s tent. “Nine long years in which we have wasted many lives and many good men against the walls of the Trojans.”

“I know, nephew,” Peter muttered through gritted teeth.

“Then you know that while your wife and children are safe in Mycenae, my _wife_ is still sequestered by our enemies in their citadel!” Derek had gone red in rage, a vein clearly pulsating on his temple.

“Do you think that I have not tried, nephew? Do you think that all the attacks on the allies of the Trojans have been in vain? Do you think that I like being here, camped under our ships at the mercy of the elements?”

“We are still camping by our ships, Peter!” Derek was almost frothing in the mouth. “We haven’t advanced a yard! And we are not any closer from getting my wife back because you spend your time circling the Trojan territory, pillaging and stealing cattle and slaves like a common thief!”

“Measure your words, Derek!” Peter warned with an icy look. “I am still king of Mycenae, and the most powerful king of the Achaeans. _I _am the alpha. And just because we are kin does not mean I will not strike you.”

Derek looked at his uncle, who held his stare until the younger Hale punched a table and left the king’s tent, cursing on his way out. Once he was alone, Peter let out a deep sigh and collapsed on one of his ornate chairs. He looked at the wine cups that were on the table by his side and filled one. He downed it and then filled it again. Peter was running out of ideas. The war was indeed lasting for too long. Their battles against the Trojans were always tied. And only by ravaging the surrounding countryside and by attacking the allies of Noah he could secure the survival of his army.

Peter was lost in his thoughts when he heard a commotion coming from the camp, so he rushed out to see what was happening.

At the centre of the camp he could see swift-footed Scott on his horse, flanked by Liam and Isaac. At their feet laid a large pile of bronze swords and spears, and several bushels of grain. Besides the three leaders there was a long line of prisoners. The soldiers of the army, meanwhile, cheered as they gathered around Scott and his men.

“Scott, king of the Myrmidons, welcome back! A toast, to our valiant warriors!” Peter announced to the crowd and drank from the cup he still had in his hand. “I also thank you for the treasure you have brought back from your raid.”

Scott stood still for a second as the high king of the Achaeans smiled at him with contempt.

“Peter of the Hales, king of Mycenae, leader of the Achaeans. I am glad to share the spoils of my plundering,” Scott replied, causing a not-so-subtle murmur amongst his own soldiers. “And I will be happy to give you your fair share – but only after I have rewarded my men.”

Peter’s eye twitched slightly at what was going to be a significant loss of treasure if Scott really planned to distribute his loot between his men. But he also knew that it was his right, so Peter did not press the issue. And yet, he saw one particularly attractive young woman amongst the captives, standing tall and proud despite the heavy rope on her wrists. Her fair skin and rounded face contrasted with her soft and straight hair. Peter clicked his tongue and spoke next with a side smile.

“Lion-hearted Scott, I would not with to deprive your men of your rich plunder. And I would not dream of depriving your loyal Liam and Isaac of their fair share of your booty,” he added in a snarky tone, and shook his head when he saw Isaac blushing behind a very confused Scott. “I will only ask for one thing.”

“Brilliant Peter, leader of men,” Scott replied, slightly baffled. “Your demand is too humble for such a mighty king. I would not dare cause you injury by offering you only one thing!”

“Listen first, son of Rafael,” Isaac called from behind, toying with the mace in his hands. “Our lord Peter _never_ asks for what is not fair. Wait to hear what he wants from you before you praise his humility.”

Peter ignored the vitriolic emphasis in the words of the tallest of the Achaeans, and simply smiled back at Scott.

“That is true,” Liam agreed. “But fair is always the judgement of Peter, son of Atreos.” Isaac rolled his eyes at Liam’s toadying.

“Believe me, Scott,” he said, “I will be fair. And I just wish for one of your captives.”

“Of course, my lord,” Scott added cautiously, Isaac’s words echoing in his mind.

Peter walked forth and approached the line of prisoners Scott and his soldiers had captured. The king of Mycenae faked interest in various captives, until he got to the young woman he had been eyeing all along.

“What is your name?”

“My name is Kira, daughter of Briseos, and I am the wife of Mynes, king of the Cilicians,” she said in a defiant tone.

“Well, Kira, daughter of Briseos, it is a pleasure to meet you,” he added slyly.

He then continued inspecting the other captives, men and women, until he got to the end of the line.

“They are all noble born captives, each worth a high ransom,” Scott said, his voice now full of caution. “Is there anyone in particular that you would like?”

“Well…” Peter said dismissively, “I imagine that they are all worth their weight in bronze and silver. But I think that I will choose Kira, daughter of Briseos,” he added after a pause, his blue eyes full of lust.

When she heard her name, Kira tried to take a step back. Scott panicked for a split of a second, before standing in between Peter and Kira.

“No.”

“What do you mean, ‘no’?” Peter retorted at the insubordination.

“I say that you cannot have her,” Scott insisted, taking off his helmet, and holding it under his arm.

“Scott, you cannot deny this to Peter,” Liam said, worried that Scott might antagonise their leader.

“Yes, Scott, listen to your companion,” Peter added, his tone flat and menacing. “You cannot deny me my share of plunder.”

Isaac held back a giggle and walked until he stood towering in between Peter and Scott, who were inching closer by the second.

“My lords,” he said calmly, even if he was still wielding his mace. “Our enemies are the Trojans, not our fellow Achaeans.”

“And as leader of the Achaeans,” Peter snarled, “I have the right to claim my share.”

“No one is denying your share, Peter, leader of soldiers,” Isaac added in a conciliatory tone.

Scott was clenching his jaw and breathing heavily as his surface at the daring demands of King Peter. He was not even listening to Isaac and his peaceful talk. Peter kept on arguing about his right, pointing violently at Kira, which made Scott’s blood boil. He was about to snap bark when another voice called for their attention.

“Achaeans!” it was Deaton, king of Pylos, who was as old as he was wise. “Our laws and customs do indeed say that the leader of a party has to receive a portion of the loot.” A section of the soldiers agreed with this statement, and made approving noises bashing their spears against their shields. “But it is also true that Scott cannot be denied his right to pick his own share.”

This caused a different group of soldiers to bash their swords and shields in support. Peter’s retinue booed at this, and a fight was about to erupt. Peter discretely smiled at this while Liam and Isaac barked orders, hoping to keep order in the ranks. Scott was still staring at Peter, his hand holding tightly his spear.

“Enough!” a loud voice called, shushing the gathering of soldiers. Everybody turned around to look at Derek, who marched into the circle with steeled determination. “We are here to fight the Trojans and to uphold the oath we swore to protect my wife.”

The camp remained silent at this reminder.

“Uncle,” Derek continued, “leader of men, please be amenable to Scott, the mightiest of our warriors. And McCall, son of Melissa, please accept an apology on behalf of my uncle. He will be happy to take anything else as his share of your plunder.”

After saying this, Derek wrapped himself in his cloak and stormed back to his tent.

“Well,” Peter said eventually. “We have heard both the wisdom of Deaton and the judgement of my nephew. I can only agree. You may keep young Kira for yourself,” he added as he browsed through the line of prisoners. “I shall content myself with this one. What is your name?”

“My name is Chryseis, daughter of the priest of Apollo,” the young blonde woman, who was probably not yet twenty, spat her reply. “And if you will not return me to my father, you all will suffer the consequences.”

“Ah, feisty. Perfect,” Peter grinned. “I am ridding you of a troublesome slave girl, Scott. You should be thanking me. Because even when you rebel against my authority, I still am magnanimous.”

Peter signalled at two of his soldiers to bring the girl to his tent, and left the assembly without any further words. Slowly, the remaining soldiers dispersed back to their tents, but not before Scott distributed his loot amongst his warriors and followers, including a finely engraved sword for Liam and two heavy bronze spears for Isaac. Once he did this, he told Liam to put the captives under guard and to send word to the Trojans that he will be ransoming his prisoners except for Kira, whom he led to his tent.

***

Back in his tent, Peter sent his servants away, but asked Chryseis to stay.

“So you say your father is the priest of Apollo?”

“He is,” Chryseis insisted while standing proudly upright, looking with disdain and disgust at his captor.

“Well, you better now get used to a different life, Chryseis. Because in this tent you are no longer the daughter of a priest. You shall be my slave girl.”

“My father,” Chryseis continued serene, although for a second it seemed as if her voice would give her fear away. “Is a good friend of King Noah, and he will pay a large sum for my release.”

“The only thing your old king has that I want is my nephew’s wife back!” Peter barked leaning forward from his chair. “And I very much doubt that Stiles, that wimp of a prince, will be willing to return her in exchange for the daughter of a simple priest.”

“My father is the priest of _Apollo_, Peter, king of Mycenae,” the girl insisted, now with threaten in her voice, “and you should know better than to anger the gods.”

Peter considered her words as he leaned back and held his chin carefully in his fingers. “Is that so?” The king stood up in a sudden move, taking Chryseis by surprise. He advanced to her with determination and a menacing grin. The girl tried to walk away from him, but he held her by the arm firmly. With his other hand he ripped her priestly dress so she was half naked and pushed her into the back of his tent.

***

In his own tent, Scott tried to talk to Kira, although the queen of the Cilicians refused to talk back.

“Would you care for some wine?” Scott asked after another long and uncomfortable silence. The son of Melissa was feeling nervous as he had never felt before. He was so impressed with Kira’s beauty that he was ready to swear that, barring Allison of Sparta, he had never seen such a beautiful woman in his life.

From the moment he saw her in her palace, he knew that he had fallen for her, and now in his tent he was thinking that Eros must be enjoying himself with his torment. Scott had never faced such a problem.

With Liam, for instance, it had always been easy, for they both had liked each other since they started training together. Rare was the night when they did not share their bed, and his heart melted every time that his loyal companion smiled at him. But Kira was a mystery to him, because no matter what kind words he said he only got silence for an answer. And yet he could not give up.

“Please, Kira, talk to me. Would you have preferred if I had let Peter take you with him?” Scott ventured after another long pause. His heart hurt at the growing emptiness he felt inside. The way Kira was now looking at him was telling him that the pain must be showing in his eyes. “Please… I- I- I will go off to Troy and surrender myself to Theo of the shining helmet if you would talk to me. I’ll burn the Achaean ships and drive our army away for just a word.”

For the first time since Scott brought her with him, Kira spoke, arching an eyebrow.

“Scott, son of Melissa, king of the Myrmidons,” she scoffed. “Mightiest of the Achaeans… You slew my husband. You slew my parents and killed my brothers. You sacked my home town, and took me away. What could I possibly say to you?”

“The gods above know that I knew not about your existence until the moment we took the palace. If I had known of your beauty and your fairness, if I had known the pain I would suffer in my chest… I would have thrown the city gates down and kneeled before your father, begging for your hand.”

“You really would have done that?” Kira mocked him. “You would have spared my father and mother, and my brothers and husband, only for my father to deny you my hand?”

“It would all have been worth it, because then I would have caught a glimpse of your face.”

“And I have to believe that you would have simply gone?”

“If you want me gone, I shall,” the son of Melissa stood up, resting the wine cup on a table. “I will climb to Olympus and descend to Tartaros, if so you ordered. I will retrace the steps of Jason and go to Colchis, if so you wished…” Scott kneeled and pleaded, looking at Kira with his bright and wide brown eyes.

Kira then smiled, for she could see that Scott was completely smitten by Eros, and that he spoke the truth. Plans of revenge began to form in her mind thinking in the many ways in which she could torture Scott for what he had done to her family. But as she opened her mouth, two goddesses walked into the McCall tent.

But the plans of the mortals do not passed unnoticed. Unseen by the two mortals, Eris, goddess of discord, placed herself by Kira, and with a swift movement of her hand she took away from her the mischievous plans of revenge, for the goddess had her own plans for the descendant of Rafael McCall. On the other side of the princess stood Aphrodite, who also had her own scheme to protect Troy and her beloved Stiles. The daughter of Zeus blew her soft and warm breath into Kira’s ear, and a simple touch of her finger on her chest turned her hatred into passion. The goddesses looked at each other in silence, and nodded in agreement, for the fate of the Achaeans had been sealed in that tent.

***

The morning after Peter woke up to a putrid smell inundating the camp and the loud voices of his generals demanding that he walked out.

“Peter, we are losing our patience!” called Brett, master of the war cry. “Come out at once!”

Isaac and his brother Camden were standing beside him, both looking furious but not speaking a word. Scott and Liam were sitting behind them, arms folded across their chests.

“Please let me talk with him,” Deaton, the wisest of the Achaeans, said in a low voice. “Nothing good will come if we anger him.”

“What else could happen?” Brett said with a sneer. “We have already been cursed by Apollo! Our men are sick and dying in their cots!”

Overnight a pestilence had attacked the camp of the Achaeans. Clouds of flies swarmed around the soldiers, who coughed blood and shook in fever. The injured had died first, weakened by the sudden malady, and now the number of men fit for combat had plummeted.

“And it’s all Peter’s fault,” Isaac said, containing his anger. “He raped the priest’s daughter and has refused to return her to her father. My men are dying, and I will have to burn them in their pyres and send word to their families in Salamis.”

“She is my slave girl,” Peter said as he walked out of his tent, looking ready for battle and interrupting the ranting of the generals. “She was my legitimate share of the loot, and I may do to her whatever pleases me.”

“You are more foolish than you look, then!” Mason said, clearly accusing the king. “You knew she was the daughter of the priest of Apollo, and now the Trojans have begged him to punish us for your crimes!”

“Be careful with what you say, Mason,” Derek cautioned from behind his uncle, but Peter gestured Derek to step back.

Peter then chuckled, and waved the rest of his generals away. “Do you really think the Trojans are so well connected? How could the gods side with those who break their oaths of hospitality! Do I have to remind you why we are here? What those coward sons of Noah did to my brother’s wife?” Peter placed his hand on Derek’s shoulder as he said this, while his nephew looked serious. “How they betrayed the trust of my own father in law in his own palace?”

“I warned you long ago, Peter, son of Atreos, that Troy was sacred to the gods, and they will not be placated with ease,” Mason reminded him.

“If they need placating, then I shall appease them. I will sacrifice twenty oxen to Apollo, then,” Peter declared after a pause. “No, more: thirty! More than whatever the Trojans have offered.”

“You still can’t see,” Deaton shook his head. “This goes beyond sacrifices. The gods demand you return the daughter of the priest! You cannot barter with them.”

All of the generals who had gathered outside the tent held their breath, for they all agreed with the words of Deaton, the Pylos-born king. Even Derek was beginning to doubt his uncle’s judgement. Peter looked at them with scorn and turned on his heels, walking back into his tent.

“The gods are not punishing my crimes,” he added before he disappeared inside, “but those of Scott.”

Scott jumped to his feet and brought his hand to the hilt of his sword.

“How dare you accuse me of crimes, Peter? It was not me who raped the daughter of a priest!”

“No,” Peter said calmly as he stopped on his tracks. “You are simply the one who would deny me my fair share as king!” he yelled as he turned around.

“You took your share, and you picked first!”

“And yet, you said loud and clear that I was not to have my first pick.”

“Kira was not yours to have. I am the one who stormed the citadel of Lyrnessos. I am the one who broke their walls and took their cattle! You sat here, failing again to take Troy.”

“Be careful of what you say, Scott, son of Melissa, because I am still your king.”

“Return Chryseis!” Brett called, breaking the tension and trying to stop the two warriors from killing each other.

“Return the daughter of the priest,” Liam agreed as he walk to stand by Scott.

“Return the Trojan girl, Peter, son of Atreos,” Scott said, staring at Peter, “and save your army from Apollo’s curse.”

“No.”

“Gods above! Listen to your generals. Look at your army. They are dying! _My _men are dying, and it is all your fault!” Scott was getting increasingly agitated, and his hand was clenching tight the hilt of his sword.

“I will not listen to your demands, McCall,” Peter spat. “And I will not return the girl.”

“You absolute imbecile, you cannot see that your stubbornness is going to kill this army _today_?” Scott was close to losing his temper, and Liam could see. He tried to get close to Scott and place a calming hand on his companion, but he shrugged him off.

“I will not give up on my slave girl, and that is final,” Peter announced and turned his back on Scott, heading towards his tent yet again.

Scott could not refrain himself any further and howled his battle cry, drawing his sword and ready to kill Peter there and then – hoping that Apollo would look kindly upon them and lift his curse. Peter looked over his shoulder, but his face showed no alarm, and his hand was already on his sword, as if he had been expecting this.

Liam and Isaac jumped on Scott, hoping in vain to keep him still, and trying to stop him from murdering their king.

“Scott, our enemies are the Trojans!” Liam grunted as he grabbed Scott’s arm.

“Please, Scott, stop!” Isaac begged. “You know better than this!”

But Scott was mad with rage, and would not listen. He was also stronger than both of his friends, and had no trouble in shaking them off as he charged at Peter. His sword was level, his arm was ready, and for a fraction of a second, Scott could see Peter’s fear as the mightiest warrior of Greece lunged at him with his bronze blade. But something halted Scott and time stopped.

Athena, the hope of soldiers, descended from Olympus and stood in front of Scott.

“Scott, son of Melissa, mightiest of the Achaeans,” the goddess said as he lowered his weapon. “You are to lead this army against the Trojans, so you can avenge the crimes of Stiles, son of Noah. You may not be the highest ruler, but you are their true and natural leader.”

Scott’s fury simmered down until his heavy breathing was back to normal.

“Remember this,” the goddess continued, “and spare Peter’s life, so the Trojans may be defeated.”

Scott blinked and the goddess was not there anymore. Time returned to its normal pace. And Peter stood in front of Scott, cowering from him.

“The gods want us to win this war, Peter son of Atreos,” Scott said through gritted teeth. “Return the daughter of the priest, and rid us of this plague.”

After realising that Scott had not killed their leader, the rest of Peter’s generals either nodded or voiced their agreement with Scott, to Peter’s great annoyance. The king surveyed the assembled princes, staring into their eyes, daring them to defy him again. But he then looked beyond them, into the camp, where the men lied on the floor, vomiting and coughing and where pyres were already being lit. He then looked beyond the palisade, beyond the plain, all the way to the mighty walls of Troy. Peter gritted his teeth and clenched his fists tight.

“Send a messenger to Noah, king of Troy,” Peter said in a low voice. One of his servants quickly bowed before him and rushed to mount a horse. “The priest may get his daughter back, so our army can be saved from this curse sent by Apollo.”

The generals sighed in relief. Some of them even dared a smile, all but Deaton, who knew that Peter would never give away what he thought was his.

“I will return the daughter of the priest, but then I will be losing my share of Scott’s plunder. It is only just and fair that I get something else, and I demand that Scott hands over Kira!”

Liam and Isaac approached Scott again, fearing he would attack Peter again, but Scott was surprisingly calm this time. He silently raised his hand, signalling his companions to stay away from him, and he sheathed his sword.

“I am the high king of the Achaeans,” Peter insisted as Scott remained oddly silent. “And you will not refuse my demands a second time!”

Scott grinned as he bowed slowly and sarcastically. He turned around and marched towards his tent.

“Kira, my love,” he said as he held her hands.

“What happens, my lord?”

“You are to go to King Peter and live in his tent.”

“Why?” Kira did not understand. She had just discovered her love for Scott and now he was sending her away?

Scott closed his eyes and kissed Kira’s forehead. “Our army has been cursed by Apollo because of Peter’s crimes, and he has accepted to return Chryseis to her father to appease Phoebos. But he has demanded that you go to him as his share of my loot…”

Kira took her hands away from Scott, and looked at him in disbelief.

“Please, my love, you must do as I say,” Scott continued, not daring to look at her in the eye. “Go to Peter, but know that soon he will have no option but to return you to me.”

Kira looked at Scott as she brought her hand to his face. She caressed his cheek and felt tears running. She then lifted his chin until they were looking into each other’s eyes. “I will do as you ask, my dear. I will go to Peter, if you promise that you will come back for me.”

Scott promised in a whisper as he kissed her hands and then cupped her face to kiss her passionately as she leaned against his body. He slowly and lovingly brought his hands down her neck, her shoulders, her arms, and to her hands, which he held and squeezed. Kira kissed him on his cheek and left his tent without looking back.

A few instants later, Liam and Isaac entered the tent and saw Scott kneeling by the shrine he kept for the gods.

“Scott?” Liam asked as he approached his companion carefully. Scott turned around and nodded him to come closer.

Liam did so and soon kneeled by Scott’s side, holding his hand and interlacing their fingers. Scott leaned against him and Liam kissed his head softly and affectionately.

“Scott, you let her go?” Liam asked, but Scott only nodded.

“I did,” was his only reply.

Meanwhile, Isaac looked at Liam comforting Scott and the bleeding wound in his heart ached again, he was about to turn around to leave when he heard Scott calling him back.

“Isaac, wait!” and Isaac waited, a warm feeling spreading through his chest as he heard Scott calling his name.

Scott walked towards him, leaving Liam standing by the shrine. Isaac looked down at Scott and arched an eyebrow.

“Isaac, you are a mighty warrior and a fine companion,” Scott said, not fully looking into the taller warrior’s eye. “You are on top of that a very dear friend, and because of this I need to warn you.”

“Warn me about what?” Isaac wondered. He saw Liam on the corner of his eye, and he did not seem to understand either.

“I… I don’t want you to get hurt,” Scott said, placing his hand on Isaac’s arm and looking up at him.

“What’s wrong?” Isaac questioned, not liking the sound of this.

“I will not go back to the fight,” Scott said.

“What?”

“I will not. I will not join the fight,” Isaac noticed that his friend was angry again, and that the odd and quiet moment of serenity he had displayed when he had agreed to Peter’s demand had been solely a momentary situation. “In fact,” Scott laughed nervously, “I am going to ask my mother and any other god above or below who would listen to help the Trojans. I _wish_ the death of the Achaeans. I want Peter to suffer. I want him to _lose_. And I want him to crawl back and apologise.”

“Scott?” Isaac could not ask anything else. Without Scott or his soldiers the Trojans were very likely going to slowly win the war. “Scott, we need you. You are the leader of this army. You are the bravest and stronger of our warriors!”

Scott remained silent, but Isaac could feel rage burning on his skin. Slowly, Isaac pulled back, ducking his head to leave the tent.

“Go tell Peter that my men and I are not leaving our camp. Tell him that he knows where to find me. And tell him that he knows what I want.”

Isaac simply nodded. He turned back to look at Scott once again, hoping to see the smile that had stolen his heart so many years ago, but he only saw the cold and steely determination that came with carefully calculated anger.

“Please, be careful!” he heard Scott calling once he was out of the tent, where he could not see him upset, or rubbing his reddened eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I find it very difficult to narrate the Briseis and Achilles (Scott/Kira) love story, because he like killed all her family and took her as his slave and all. And yet they just fall in love like that… because of Epic (!). It is so wrong, re-telling the epic with all these female characters without any real agency. I think I am only going to briefly describe those bits and focus on the heroic drama – please don’t be too cross at me


	4. Hoppóteros dé ke nikései

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Following Scott's plea, Melissa asks Zeus for help, which leads to a a duel between Derek and Stiles at the gates of Troy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't worry - there isn't a list of ships.

_ὁππότερος δέ κε νικήσῃ κρείσσων τε γένηται/κτήμαθ᾿ ἑλὼν ἐὺ πάντα γυναῖκά τε οἴκαδ᾿ ἀγέσθω_

And whoever wins, and proves to be the best man, may he win all the treasure and the woman, and take them home

***

Divine Melissa heard her son’s plea to help the Trojans and punish the Achaeans for the insult and affront he had suffered. She loved her son so dearly that she could not refuse his plea, so she swiftly flew to Olympus, home of the gods, and sought Father Zeus, who has the power to rule and bend the fate of mortals.

“Zeus, son of Kronos and king of the gods, please hear my prayer,” Melissa said kneeling in front of the cloudy throne. “My son Scott has been insulted by Peter, and he wishes the Achaeans to suffer in their war.”

“Silver footed Melissa, why would I meddle in the affairs of the mortals?” Zeus replied, toying with his bushy beard. “The Trojans and the Achaeans both sacrifice in my honour, and have caused me no reason to aid or hinder either of them.”

“Surely you know, king of Olympus, that all the other gods appear to have taken sides in this war? Don’t you know that your daughter Aphrodite has been helping the Trojans, while your wife Hera has been aiding the Achaeans?”

“I know, true, but that is still no reason for me to take sides,” Zeus replied.

“Don’t you think for a second, son of Kronos, that I have forgotten what I am owed. I helped you once, when your ungrateful siblings dared defy your rule, and I never for asked anything in return. Until now.”

Zeus almighty thought and mulled on the words of Melissa, daughter of the Ocean. It was true that she had broken Zeus’ chains that Poseidon, Hera and Athena had trapped him with, and she had never asked for anything for that favour. But Zeus was worried, that if he took sides now, he’d end up being knee-deep in mortal affairs, which he wanted to avoid at all costs. But the stern and stubborn look on Melissa told him that she would not take a no for an answer, so he caved in.

“I shall bring chaos to the Achaeans _and_ the Trojans, but whatever happens to them will be result of their own folly,” Zeus proclaimed. “I would rather not take sides and face the wrath of the other Olympians.”

Melissa looked at Zeus, father of the gods, and thought carefully. She knew that this was probably the best she was going to get, even if it still did not satisfy her demands.

“I am ready to accept this,” the goddess said with a twisted mouth. “And it will have to do – for now. But it is not enough.” She turned around and left before Zeus could argue.

While she was in Olympus, Melissa went to the forge of Hephaistos, blacksmith of the gods. The smithy was darkened by soot, and illuminated by the yellow and orange light of the furnaces. All the weapons of the gods had been fabricated there, and none had ever failed them.

“Crafty Hephaistos, smith of the gods, I have come with a request,” she called as she walked into the workshop.

“Isn’t that always the case,” Hephaistos mumbled as he dropped heavily his hammer on the bench. “What would you—Oh! Hello, Melissa,” the god was smitten by Melissa’s beauty, and all his ill thoughts vanished at her sight. “What do you want of me?”

“I need the best weapons and armour a mortal can wield,” Melissa said, kneeling by the lame god. “My dearest son Scott has joined the war of the Achaeans against the Trojans, and I do not wish him to be hurt.”

“Melissa, I am sorry,” Hephaistos said, pushing her carefully away, “but I cannot forge weapons for the mortals! Half of Olympus will be here tomorrow demanding me to equip their children!”

“You can always deny them, but I beg of you, please help my son!” Melissa insisted. “The Trojans have the support of many gods already, and my son will be in danger if we don’t help him.”

Hephaistos did not seem moved, although he found it increasingly difficult to ignore Melissa’s beauty. The ocean goddess noticed the way in which Hephaistos looked at her, and hoped to use this to her advantage.

“Hephaistos, listen,” she said, sitting by his side, and holding his large and callous hand, “your unfaithful wife and her lover are already helping the Trojans. Surely you should help the Achaeans out of spite?”

The reference to Aphrodite and Ares’ affair made Hephaistos’ blood boil in anger and revenge, but that gut and primeval feeling was not enough.

“I am sure,” Melissa continued, “that even if divine Aphrodite does not wish to lay with you anymore, I am sure _we_ could reach an agreement,” she added while bringing her soft hands up the god’s muscly arm and shoulder, until it was resting lightly on his cheek. “I am begging you to help my son.”

The blacksmith god felt a shiver down his spine and a smile forming under his unkempt beard. He looked at Melissa’s imploring eyes, and took a deep breath.

“I shall forge your son’s kit. The strongest armour, the shiniest helmet, and the toughest shield,” he said with a smile. Then, in a colder tone and a set jaw, he added, “And I shall help the Achaeans against the Trojans, and bring pain to all those who help them.”

***

Zeus, meanwhile, was walking up and down Olympus, pondering about Melissa’s request. The Achaeans and the Trojans had been at war for almost ten years, and for that time he had managed to stay away from the conflict. True, half of the gods had already taken sides, and they all seemed happy with him taking this role as umpire. Aphrodite, Apollo, and Ares were clearly helping the Trojans, while Athena, Hera, and Poseidon supported the Achaeans. Not that he cared much about who amongst the mortals won the war, but he did not want to antagonise the other Olympians.

That was why he needed a way to help the Trojans without him actively getting involved against the Achaeans, because it would lead to too many headaches. That was why he had thought that he needed a plan. And a cunning one. He had at first promised to disrupt both sides, but he did not know how that would help Scott in particular. The only option, Zeus decided, was to force both sides to fight, because without Scott the Achaeans would not do well in battle. But for that very reason, they would not leave their camp. It was all too complicated.

Unless he was discrete. And cunning. And _very_ subtle.

***

Peter’s day had not started well. He had found a camp cursed by Apollo, riddled by a plague, and an angry gathering of his generals, who dared _demand_ him to return his slave girl. His _subordinates_ were demanding _him_ to relinquish his legitimate share of the loot! He had rightly pointed that it was all Scott’s fault, not his, and the son of Melissa had turned to violence against his king! Thankfully he had seen sense and had sent him the beautiful Kira, who was now _his_ slave girl. As soon as she walked into his tent and the daughter of the priest was returned to her father the plague disappeared. True, he had to sacrifice to Apollo a score of oxen to thank the god (the same god who had actually cursed them, mind you), but at least his position as leader of the Achaeans had been reinforced.

And he had scored one over Scott, which was always good. Isaac had walked into the royal tent, announcing that Scott refused to fight for him until Kira was returned to him, but the son of Melissa could wait by his ships. He had insulted him once already, and mighty warrior or not, Peter could not tolerate that insubordination, so he kept Kira, and Scott could sulk away.

He had gone to bed after a heavy dinner with Derek, Deaton, Isaac, and Brett, all of which had seemed concerned about Scott’s refusal to fight, but Peter had managed to convince them that Scott would come back to them. His generals did not seem very convinced by his reasoning, but there was a reason why Peter, and not the rest, was the alpha leader of the Achaeans. Content with his thoughts, he went to sleep.

His sleep was full with dreams: confusing dreams which kept him tossing and turning. There were no clear pictures in his dream, only flashes of memories, images of recent battles, and visions of beautiful Kira. Peter was trapped in his dream, unable to wake himself up and unable to change the direction of the nightmare.

“Peter, son of Atreos, king of Mycenae!” a voice thundered in Peter’s mind. His dream was suddenly calm and clear, no trace of the muddled visions he had had.

“Who calls for me,” Peter demanded in his dream.

“I am Father Zeus, and I have a message for you.”

Peter dared not speak to the king of the gods, and even in his dream, his mental image of himself prostrated to the pulsating light that inundated his vision.

“This war between the Trojans and the Achaeans is dragging for too long. It is sending hundreds upon hundreds of mighty warriors to Elysium and is causing innumerable sufferings to the families of the warriors. It is even causing strife amongst the gods, who are taking sides.”

“Mighty Zeus,” Peter dared say, “surely you must see that our cause is just. We took an oath to protect fair Allison, princess of Sparta, and we are honouring that oath. And the greatest crime: our foes took advantage of our hospitality and violated the truce that we had called!”

“The crimes of the Trojans are well-known,” Zeus agreed, “which is why they must be punished. Listen to me, Peter: now is the moment. You must go against the walls of Troy and defeat them in battle. Enough of cowering behind your palisades and waiting in your camp. You must attack, and you must do so now.”

“My lord,” Peter hesitated, “we cannot fight the Trojans without Scott—“

“Nonsense!” Zeus roared, only just too suddenly. “You have fought many times without Scott or his men in wars in Arcadia and Argos, haven’t you? You secured many victories then and you shall now!”

“But… but the men?”

“The men will follow their leader. The soldiers will follow _you_. They’ll not even notice Scott is not there. They will all hail Peter, leader of the Achaeans,” Zeus insisted, his voice echoing in Peter’s dream. “Victory will be yours within a week.”

Peter blinked, and was awake.

***

Theo walked down the corridors of the palace alone in the early hours of the morning, avoiding the gazes of guards and slaves, hiding away from them. He needed time to think, and he needed to do it on his own. Father Zeus, king of the gods, had appeared in his dream and promised a quick and final victory against the Achaeans if they sallied forth and presented battle. But it was all too good to be true, surely? Simply because Scott had retreated to his tent did not mean that the Achaeans were less formidable.

When he heard rustling in the dining room he headed there, and sat at the table he found most of his family. Sitting at the head, in his royal tunic was his father, wise Noah, son of Laomedon. His hair was thinning, which caused him great concern. This morning his brow was furrowed, and dark circles surrounded his kind blue eyes. Next to him was his daughter Lydia, the most beautiful woman of Troy. Her hair was strawberry blond, and her eyes were light brown, and because of this Apollo had fallen in love with her. The god had given her the gift of prophecy, and she could see the future; but because she refused his advances, the god cursed her so nobody would believe her visions of the future. Next to her was Jackson, son of goddess Aphrodite, and cousin of Theo, Stiles, and Lydia. Jackson had fierce blue eyes, a chiselled, god-like face, and strong arms. He had led the Trojans in many battles, and was Theo’s right-hand man. Next to him was Hayden, Theo’s wife, short in stature, but of very noble birth. She was happy that the war had started, for she longed to see Scott dead, for he had been the man who killed her father and brothers in battle.

“Good morning, cousin,” Jackson called, finishing his breakfast. “You seem troubled this morning. Have the gods tormented you in your sleep?”

“They have…” Lydia said, not lifting her eyes from her bowl.

“Come here, son,” Noah said. “Tell us what has happened.”

“I do not know what to do,” Theo said, his mighty muscles showing under his tunic. “Father Zeus has asked me to sally forth and fight the Achaeans.”

“It would not be wise to ignore the commands of the gods,” Noah said.

“It is a great sign,” Jackson added with a big grin. “With Father Zeus on our side we cannot lose, right?”

“Apparently Scott will not be fighting with the Achaeans…”

“Then you must defeat the Achaeans first and then go and find Scott,” Hayden hissed. “Or don’t you want to avenge my family anymore?”

“I want revenge for your family, my dearest Hayden. And I want to see Scott dead. But it does not feel right…”

“You are overthinking, cousin,” Jackson patted Theo on the shoulder. “It seems crystal clear to me. Call the troops, I say! Gather the men and let us drench the plain of Troy with the blood of our enemies!”

“I would like to be more cautious,” Noah warned, “but a sign of the gods is… a sign of the gods!”

“Don’t do it,” Lydia added before Theo could make up his mind, causing everyone to go silent.

“What did you say?” Jackson asked, mouth half-full of breakfast, not really sure that he had heard correctly.

“I say do not go into battle with the Achaeans,” she insisted. “Why would Zeus suddenly take part in this war?”

“Lydia, dearest daughter,” Noah said with an understanding tone. “I know we have received a sign by Zeus himself! What else can we ask for?”

“You don’t understand – I have _seen_ what’s going to happen. And Stiles may not come back from this battle!”

“You have so little faith in your brothers?” Theo questioned. “You have seen us go out and defeat the Achaeans many times. Now with Zeus on our side, what could possibly go wrong?”

“This is a _terrible_ idea,” Lydia insisted. “Trust me, I know this will not end up well.”

“You are always a little rain of sunshine, aren’t you, sister?” Theo mocked.

“Argh! Why will none of you ever listen to me!” Lydia shouted, storming out of the room, brushing pass Stiles as he walked into the room, arms entwined with Allison’s.

“What have I missed?” the Trojan prince asked, his face a mask of confusion.

“Prepare your armour, brother,” Theo instructed as Jackson slammed his fist on the table with approval. “Today we march into battle.”

***

“Divine Melissa, daughter of the Ocean,” Hephaistos called before the goddess left Olympus. “I have your son’s weapons ready!”

The lame god grinned at the goddess, and offered here a formidable set of armour, made of the finest bronze. The helmet was solid and shiny, the breastplate beautifully carved, and the greaves decorated with gold. Melissa was certainly impressed.

“These are perfect, Hephaistos! You have certainly created the most formidable kit!”

“Worthy of a hero,” Hephaistos said with pride. “Just what the son of a goddess deserves.”

“You truly have outdone yourself,” Melissa kept flattering the god. “I don’t know how I could ever repay you for this!”

“Oh, well… on that issue,” the forger god blushed as he spoke. “You did mention… perhaps… seeing that my wife does not want to share my bed. I don’t know, but… would you… consider?”

“Crafty Hephaistos,” Melissa said, her voice soft as velvet and sweet as honey. “You are a most admirable god, and the most skilful, but I am afraid that I am married to Rafael.”

“Huh… but… I thought…” Hephaistos scratched his head and toyed with his leather apron. “You- you- you said… Didn’t you? That p- p- perhaps we could… Us?”

“Don’t worry,” she said as she planted a soft kiss on the god’s temple. “I will have a word with your wife, and will send her your way,” Melissa promised as she grabbed all the armour the god had crafted for her son. “And once this terrible war is over, she will have no option but to go back to you.”

“Huh?”

“She will fall into your arms, Hephaistos,” Melissa added with a smile, as she walked through the gates of Olympus. “I will make sure of it! And thank you so much again for the _wonderful_ armour!”

Hephaistos stood by the Olympian gates with a gaping mouth, looking at Melissa flying away, heading towards Troy.

***

Peter summoned all the army outside the camp. But he first called Derek and Deaton to his tent, seeking their counsel. He had had a command from Zeus, who had promised him victory very soon, but he was still not sure about the army’s morale. After the plague and Scott’s desertion, he knew that it was not very high, so he needed a plan to boost it. To his generals he explained his dream and Zeus’ orders, but also put forwards his own doubts about the willingness of men to fight. They needed a victory to bring the morale up, but they needed to lead them out into the battle field first, and they would not march until the morale improved.

“So we are stuck,” Peter said, massaging his temples, while Derek and Deaton looked at each other, arms crossed over their bronze armour.

“You’ll need to convince them, either with glory, or gold – but we have not been lucky with either recently,” Derek said casually.

“You could appeal to their sense of duty,” Deaton ventured, but Peter dismissed this option.

“The men are not in the mood to be reminded about their duty or their loyalty.”

“Perhaps you could plea to their honour,” Kira said, as she walked into the tent with a crater of wine. She served four cups, keeping one for herself. Peter smiled but said nothing.

“Oh, and how would you do that?” Peter asked, genuinely intrigued.

“I am sure that you, mighty warriors,” Kira said, looking at the three kings in the tent, “will know better. But I might tell them that it is improper for Achaeans to cower behind their palisades and to refuse a fight. Maybe I would tell them that they have grown fat and lazy off Scott’s hard-won victories. But I would not know,” she added, downing her wine. “I am only a slave girl.”

Peter looked at Derek and Deaton, clearly expecting their opinion. Derek seemed to furrow his eyebrows in approval, although his shoulders shrugged, indicating that he was not convinced and that it could potentially work. Deaton looked back at Peter with concern.

“It is a risky strategy, Peter, son of Atreos,” Deaton advised. “But if played well, it could work…”

That was all Peter needed before sending a messenger to blow the war horns to summon the army.

Soon the soldiers were gathered in the assembly, each standing behind their leader. They sacrificed a lamb to Zeus and another to Athena, begging for wisdom in their decision, and asking them to bless their assembly. Peter walked to the sacrificial altar and poured a jug of wine. After the rites were done, the priests informed the Achaeans that the gods smiled upon them. Peter then addressed the assembled warriors.

“Achaeans! Fellow countrymen! Hear my words!” Peter announced, demanding silence. The soldiers listened. “Father Zeus has appeared to me in a dream, and he has instructed me to lead a final attack on the Trojans! Victory shall be ours in a week, and all the riches of Troy will be yours to plunder!”

This was received with a dull acclamation. Peter’s most loyal soldiers bashed their shields in support, but most of the army was not moved by these words.

“How are we to defeat the Trojans without Scott?” a soldier called from within the ranks.

Isaac and Brett, who were standing side by side, turned their heads behind them to see Nolan, a lowly soldier, putting his doubts forward. The two mighty warriors looked at each other, clearly agreeing with the fair question, but refraining from challenging Peter. From the murmur that emerged after this question, it was clear that the army largely agreed with him.

“The might and the glory of the Achaeans cannot rely on one single man,” Peter said with a smile. “We are an army together, and we have fought together for ten long years!”

“And yet, we are still here. As close to Troy’s treasures as we were on the first day!” Nolan insisted. The approval amongst the soldiers seem to grow louder.

Peter clenched his teeth, and took a deep breath.

“Are you refusing to fight?” Peter threw his bait. “I had been assured that this army had gathered the best warriors of all Greece, the soldiers who will defeat the Trojans!”

This got the soldiers’ attention. The assembly went silent as the men took this in. Nobody liked to be seen as a coward. Peter pressed on.

“Father Zeus has told me in a vision. The victory is close! And yet you would rather cower in camp because Scott McCall is not fighting in this occasion. Let him wait this one off! Let him rest in his tent! More loot for the rest!”

The warriors seem to agree with Peter in this occasion, and bashed their shields and cheered. A sly smile formed on Peter’s face, but before he could speak again, he was interrupted.

“This is all what is all about, isn’t it, Peter?” Nolan said, walking through the ranks until he was in the open space at the centre of the gathering. “It’s all about the loot ad the riches of Troy?”

The assembly went quiet. Suddenly Nolan was speaking the thoughts that most soldiers dared not put into words.

“You claim that this is all for your nephew’s honour, and for the oath you gave on Allison’s betrothal, but it is all about gold and power, isn’t it, Peter, king of Mycenae?” The tone of despising mock was not lost on anyone.

“Mind your words, Nolan, son of _nobody_,” Peter threatened.

“Or what?” Nolan insisted, as more soldiers nodded and yelled in support. “You are the one who has sent Isaac, and Brett, and Derek, and Scott to fight off the Trojan allies. You are the one who has not left the army’s camp!”

The army remained silent, listening to Nolan’s accusations.

“You only want more gold and more power,” the foot soldier continued. “You were so desperate to secure your own throne that married Kate to ally yourself with Chris. And you threw Derek and Allison together just in case!”

The denunciations were turning the crowd rowdy.

“Is that it, then?” Peter barked back. “You don’t want the riches of Troy? You don’t want the fame and the glory? You have no sense of honour – you would break the oath we took on Chris’ throne? Fine! Go to your ships. Man the oars. Go back to Greece for all I care…” At this point, the will of assembly was balanced on a knife-edge.

“Maybe we should!” Nolan retorted. “Maybe we’ve all had enough of your war!”

A warm breeze blew through the camp, shaking the tents and the flags.

_Mason… Mason!_

Mason of many devices turned around, but saw nobody.

_Mason, listen to me!_ the voice insisted.

“Who calls me?”

Suddenly, a cloaked figure appeared besides him, which nobody else could see.

“Lady Athena!”

“Stop him, Mason. You must stop him! Or the army will literally pack and leave!”

The warm breeze blew again, and the cloaked figure disappeared.

“That is enough, Nolan!” Mason yelled as he stood up and walked to the centre of the assembly. “How dare you tell us to ignore the message from the gods? How dare you suggest we break our oath to King Chris! You should be tied and beaten like the mutinous traitor that you are!”

The army, which had been bubbling with comments and cries of approval was suddenly silent, listening to Mason’s words.

“If there is a coward in this army is _you_!” Mason spat. “You are ready to give up on all the work and all the effort of all our dead comrades. You’ll stain their memory and have us sail back home in shame?” Nolan did not say anything. He cowered at Mason’s words and warm tears fell from his eye. “Go back to your rank,” Mason instructed as the humiliated soldier retreated into the mass of soldiers.

“Let us all think about what has happened,” Deaton called, “and have our morning meal. For after that we shall follow Peter into battle to the high walls of Troy!”

The assembly of soldiers roared in approval.

***

“My lord Noah!” a messenger erupted into the throne room. “My lord! The Achaeans are ready for battle! They’ve deployed out in the plain.”

Noah looked at his un-started plate of deep-fried, salted, spiced and curly swedes and shook his head. For once neither Stiles nor Theo were there to tell him off, but he supposed this took precedence.

“Have my sons been warned? Has the army been summoned?”

“Yes, my lord. They have been ready since morn.”

Noah quickly munched on a handful of his fried curly swede and stood up, shaking his hands.

“Call for my daughters,” the king ordered. “Send them to the battlements.”

The messenger bowed and dashed into the palace. Noah then headed towards the walls. As he walked through the city, through the temples, and the market square, he could see his citizens ready for one more battle. But he could also see the sad and tired faces of all those who had lost someone to the war. Sometimes the king had urges to strangle Stiles for kidnapping an Achaean princess, throwing them into a never-ending war, but he knew he had done it out of pure and true love, and he himself had been young and reckless once.

Once on the battlements, above the gate, Noah saw, amongst a throng of servants, his daughter Lydia, and her daughters-in-law Hayden and Allison, who were as dear to him as his daughter.

“Father,” Lydia called, looking unimpressed at the Achaean battle line. “We were wondering where you were.”

“I was having my lunch, and was informed about the Achaeans lining up just now! How come you are here before me?”

“We were here already,” Hayden explained. “We were waiting for our army to parade on their way out.”

“And we had never seen the Achaeans in full so close to our walls,” Lydia added in a morose tone.

“Allison?” Noah asked gingerly, as the Spartan princess looked across the field, studying the Achaean line.

“I cannot believe this has all started because of me…” the princess said with sadness. “I wish I had had a chance to explain my father before Stiles and I had to leave.”

“But then you would not have been allowed to leave, Allison,” Noah said, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder.

“You have been nothing but generous to me, King Noah, son of Laomedon.”

“You are my daughter now,” the king said with a smile. “I am only carrying out my fatherly duties.”

A hint of a tear formed on Allison’s fair face, but she turned away, looking at the Achaean army as she discreetly rubbed her eye.

“They have come from all corners of Greece,” she said, diverting the conversation.

“Well, indeed. Over a thousand ships from Ithaka to Phthia, including all the islands and lands of the Achaeans in between—“

“Dad,” Lydia interrupted. “Please do not list again all the enemies that we’re facing. _Nobody_ wants to listen to a list of ships!”

“It’s true, Noah,” Hayden added, siding with Lydia against the baffled king, who had been deprived of his chance to re-tell his favourite anecdote. “It was tedious and long enough the first time.”

Allison giggled behind the king, who shook his head and turned to look at the enemies lined up in front of them.

“I can see the banners of Brett, master of the war-cry, and king of Argos. And over there are those of Isaac, tallest of the Achaeans. But…” Allison scanned across the battle field, searching but not finding. “I fail to see the banners of my brothers.”

Noah’s face twisted, as he exhaled loudly.

“What has happened to them?”

“Allison, your brothers…” Noah did not know how to put it. Her brothers had killed themselves after she was abducted. “Ethan and Aiden lie now buried in the halls of your ancestors, back in Sparta.”

Allison broke into tears. Lydia was quickly there consoling her.

“How? When?”

Lydia looked up at her father as Allison bent down in mourning. Noah was lost at words.

At that moment, the war horns blasted and the massive brazen gates of Troy opened as the army marched forth to fight the Achaeans.

***

The two armies were ready for battle. The generals had addressed their men, and the soldiers were ready for the fight, hurling insults, bashing their shields, and praying to the gods. The archers let a few arrows loose, mostly to judge the distance between the lines. The horsemen waited impatiently on the flanks, whispering to their mounts.

“Listen, Stiles,” Theo said to his brother, who felt uncomfortable in his armour. “We have a sign from Zeus that if we attacked today, victory would be ours.”

“Yeah, I know,” Stiles said back with a smile. “The war can soon be over!”

“With the gods on our side, don’t you think it would be better if we save our men from a difficult battle and sort this war once and for all?”

“Uh-huh. Theo, big bro, what are you trying to say?” Stiles took off his helmet and scratched his itchy scalp.

“I’m just saying that we could finish all today. _You_ could. In single combat.”

“Are you insane?” Stiles gasped. “Have you seen the size of them? And why me?”

“Stiles! Today is the day when Father Zeus smiles upon us!” Theo insisted, with a big grin. “Just think about it: if you challenge Derek, the one person affronted by, urm… what happened with Allison, you could put an end to this war!”

Stiles was not a coward, and he had been fighting the Achaeans all these years. But he was not the strongest or the fastest, certainly not when compared to his brother Theo, or his cousin Jackson. And the Achaeans were formidable adversaries.

“Why me? And Why Derek?” Stiles said, visibly sweating.

“Because this is a feud between the two of you. And father and I trust that you will win in this occasion,” Theo added.

Stiles stared into the ranks of the Achaeans, thinking carefully. They had had a sign from Zeus, true, which had to mean something. But he would also have to fight Derek in single combat, which he was not really looking forward. The deeds of the Hale were famous, and had done nothing but increase over the course of the war. Before he could make up his mind, however, his brother was already half way to the Achaean soldiers, calling for a truce.

“Oh gods…” Stiles mumbled. “Blessed Aphrodite, goddess of love. Remember I was your champion and proclaimed you to be the fairest of all goddesses… Please do not forget about me today…”

“Achaeans!” Theo called aloud after planting his sword and his spear into the ground. “I call for a truce!”

“Why would the Achaeans honour the truce called by a Trojan?” Brett shouted from the front line. All of his soldiers agreed.

Theo ignored him. “Hear me, well-greaved Achaeans! And hear me, Trojans! For the truce I call is one that will put an end to our dispute!”

“The dispute will end when you hand over back my wife!” Derek roared, causing a loud and supportive ruckus amongst his ranks.

“Listen to what I have to say! I ask all Trojans and all Achaeans to lay aside their armour and their weapons on the earth so that two of our champions shall step forward and decide the end of this war!”

This certainly caught the Achaeans attention. Isaac and Brett marched towards Peter and Derek, soon followed by Mason. They huddled together and conferred with each other, before Peter stepped forward, taking off his helmet.

“What are the terms of your challenge? And who shall fight in this duel?”

“I shall fight this duel!” Stiles shouted, tightening the grip on his heavy spear. “I, Stiles, son of Noah, prince of the Trojans. I challenge Derek, protected by Ares, prince of Sparta.”

A lupine smile formed on both Peter and Derek when they heard the challenge, just as a loud murmur formed on both the Trojan and the Achaean ranks.

“You and I?” Derek said, advancing slowly forward. “In a single combat? The gods smile upon us today then.”

“Listen, Derek, and all of you Achaeans,” Theo added in a cautious tone. “If you accept this challenge—“

“I accept it!” Derek interrupted. “I shall rip his throat. With my teeth!”

“If you accept this duel, then you must abide by the rules of the truce and accept the outcome of the duel!”

“What are the terms?” Peter asked, still smiling, as he walked to the side of Derek.

“This will be a single combat, for the hand of Allison, and all her possessions. And whoever wins, and proves to be the best man, may he win all the treasure and the woman, and take them home.”

“Is that all?” Peter asked while he prevented Derek from charging forward with a hand on his nephew’s chest.

“After the duel we will swear oaths of friendship between us, so we may all return home in peace.”

“That shall be no problem then,” Isaac shouted from within his soldiers. “Luckily we know how to keep oaths of friendship.” His warriors cheered and laughed, before Peter demanded silence.

The high king of the Achaeans looked back at his generals, who all nodded in consent. After all, they had Zeus on their side, and Derek was most likely going to beat Stiles to a bloody pulp.

“We shall swear the oaths!” Peter proclaimed and the Achaeans erupted in cheers of support of their champion, a cacophony mirrored by the shouting of the Trojans.

Peter dug his sword and his spear on the ground a few yards away from Theo’s, symbolising the truce, and setting the limits of the combat arena. As he walked back towards his ranks, Theo placed his heavy hand on Stiles’ shoulder, and was surprised to see Stiles’ confident smile.

“May the gods favour us today, brother.”

“Today is the day when we get rid of these stinky Achaeans from across the sea,” Stiles muttered as he bashed his heavy sword against his shield.

With a mighty war cry that echoed against the walls of Troy, Derek charged into Stiles the moment he set foot on the fighting ground. Stiles was swift enough to dodge the angry Achaean.

“Charging blindly like a boar will do you no good, Derek!” Stiles taunted as he stabbed with his spear at Derek’s leg, but he brought down his shield at the right moment. The sound of metal on metal was heard clearly by both armies.

“Is that how you are going to fight?” Derek asked, slicing with his sword at Stiles’ spear, hoping to break it. He knew Stiles was more agile, and the spear gave him distance and advantage. “Yapping and taunting?” another sword slice. “Keeping the distance?”

The third attack hit Stiles’ spear, but the Trojan loosened his grip so the sword simply pushed it to the side rather than break it.

“I know how to pick my fights,” Stiles teased. He lunged his spear rapidly against Derek’s shoulders. Twice. But once he hit Derek’s shield and the second one the Achaean managed to dodge.

“And yet, here we are. Too much talking. Not enough fighting!”

Derek bashed Stiles’ spear with his shield, quickly followed by a hard downwards cut with his heavy sword. The bronze blade ripped through the shield’s hide. Stiles leaped back and stabbed again with his spear, lodging it firmly into Derek’s shield. But this time Stiles could not pull it back. With a cocky grin, Derek brought his blade down on the shaft of the spear and broke it. A loud roar erupted from the Achaean camp.

“Grab your sword now,” Derek ordered, circling the Trojan with his blade levelled. “Grab it, I say!”

Stiles drew his sword from its scabbard, and shifted the weight of his shield closer to his body.

“Well, I’m ready for you Derek,” Stiles was oddly calm and smiling. “Readier for you than you were ever for your wife.”

Derek saw red and charged forward, shouting in rage. He rushed with all his weight against Stiles’ own shield, but the Trojan had already dug his heels deep and lowered his position, so he was able to contain Derek’s ferocious attack. Stiles had his blade ready, and with a quick move he stabbed with the point into Derek’s flank, piercing through the armour enough to draw blood. As Derek visibly winced, it was the Trojan’s turn to acclaim their prince.

Stiles quickly moved to the side, positioning himself behind Derek, ready to stab again, but the Achaean spun on his heels and deflected Stile’s jab with his shield. In the same movement, Derek wick Stiles’ shield with all his might, sending the Trojan prince to the ground on his arse. The Achaeans cheered.

The Trojan quickly rolled back on his knees, and gasped as he saw Derek throwing his shield away and wielding his bronze sword with both of his hands. With a wild scream and all his strength, Derek brought his sword down on Stiles, splintering his shield and braking it into two.

“Stand up!” Derek ordered. Stiles did so, keeping a distance from Derek, and his body position low.

Derek lunged and stabbed at Stiles repeatedly, and the only thing Stiles could do was dodge and parry. The Achaean’s attack was relentless, not giving Stiles a chance to counter attack, or even feint in order to roll away into a different position.

“You’re very quiet now, Stiles,” Derek said as he lunged again.

But Stiles was simply waiting for his chance, and when Derek spoke, he rolled to a side and stabbed with his sword at Derek’s leg, only to hit his gilded greave.

“Gotcha,” and with one single downwards swing, Derek’s blade came down to Stiles’ sword, shattering it in half. The Trojans held their breath, while the Achaeans called for blood.

Stiles was frozen on the spot, and did not even move when Derek kicked him, sending his bronze helmet flying away. As Stiles stood on his knees, Derek brought his sword to Stiles’ neck.

“I hope that the Erinyes are waiting for you in the afterlife, Stiles, son of Noah,” Derek had a smug smile on his face, which soon turned into an icy and steely look. “And I hope that you pay for all your crimes in Tartaros.”

From the Trojan lines, Theo was red in rage, warm tears streaming down his face. Up in the battlements, Noah had collapsed on his chair, averting his eyes from the plain, and cursing at the gods. Allison was crying at Noah’s knees, while Lydia stared blankly into the distance, a lonely tear in the corner of her eye for his dear brother. In the Achaean camp the soldiers were bashing their shields, screaming for the victory and hailing Derek as their champion. That was, until a warm breeze swept through the plain. Peter’s lupine smile turned immediately upside down, and he ran forward towards the duelling arena.

As Derek brought his sword one final time down, the breeze intensified, and before the bronze blade met Stile’s neck, the Trojan was taken away by the wind.

“My lady Aphrodite!” Stiles said as he flew above the Trojan army and the city walls. “You- you saved me?”

“I could not let my champion die like that,” she said with a smile. “And I could not break the heart of two young lovers,” she added as he was deposited gently on his own bed.

Before he could process what had happened, he heard a distressed and relieved voice calling his name.

“Stiles!” Allison called as she stormed into the room.

“My love!”

Allison ran to the bed and embraced Stiles passionately, kissing him all over.

***

“Come back!” Derek yelled, his face red in rage, almost frothing in the mouth. “Come back and fight like the man you are not!”

Derek was battering his shield with his sword, circling around, and kicking the ground.

“Nephew—“ Peter tried to calm him down.

“Stand back, uncle. I need to plunge my sword into someone, and cannot promise it won’t be you. Stiles! Stiles I demand you come back and finish our fight!” he was screaming on the top of his lungs, so Stiles could hear him from wherever he was hiding. But all he got from the Trojans was silence. “You took away my _wife_! You violated the hospitality we offered. And now you deny me my rightful victory? I curse you, Stiles, you hear me? I curse _you_ and all of your line!”

Derek was so furious that his nose was flaring and his entire body was trembling. Isaac and Brett approached him with caution, but Derek simply lunged at them with his sword and roared.

“Stiles!!!”

In front of them, the Trojan line was slowly retreating back into the safety of their walls, embarrassed at their prince, but happy that the duel had been inconclusive. This gave them another chance to fight and to defeat the Achaeans.

Theo walked forwards towards Derek with his hands up, but Isaac, descendant of Zeus, stood on his way, towering above him. With his mace in his hand, Isaac looked down at Theo.

“You better go back to your walls, Trojan,” the last word Isaac spat as an insult. “Your brother has insulted Derek’s honour once again today—”

Theo was about to reply, but Isaac brought his mace up to Theo’s chest, pushing him backards, and did not let him continue.

“We have sworn to the gods to keep the truce, and we Achaeans do not break our oaths,” the vitriolic dart was evident in Isaac’s words. “I recommend you walk back with your soldiers and go and comfort your little brother, because if you walk any closer I cannot promise that Derek will not kill you.”

Theo turned around, embarrassed and furious, and did not add anything else. As the heavy gates of Troy shut behind him, he could still hear Derek calling his brother out.

“STILES!!!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, Homer, but nobody wants an entire rhapsody with lists of ships. Nobody.
> 
> But yeah, sadly Helen is just an agency-less character to be bartered over by Hektor and Menelaos. It's wrong, but I’ve kept it. Because of Epic. Soz.


	5. Quo ruis?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Trojans break the truce, and Brett brings down the fury of the Achaeans against them.

_"Quo ruis?" - exclamat - "quae te, scelerate, furentem/mens agit imparibus mecum concurrere telis?_

“Why are you rushing?” [Diomedes] cried. “What raging impulse is driving you, you impious criminal, to fight me with unequal weapons?”

***

“Trojans, listen!” Peter called once his nephew had calmed. The retreating Trojans stopped to hear. “We have won in fair combat, as you suggested. Hand us over the princess and the wealth now, and we shall return to Greece with the tide.”

All the Achaeans applauded and cheered, while the Trojans looked around, hoping Theo would step forward, but his cousin Jackson beat him to it.

“That was not a fair combat,” the Trojan prince shouted. “It is clear to all that divine Athena was helping Derek! That makes the duel null.”

Outrage exploded amongst the ranks of the Achaeans. Isaac and Brett had to hold Derek back before he ripped Jackson to shreds because of the accusation. Peter lifted his arms, demanding silence.

“Surely you do not believe we got any more divine help than you did? Or by chance you did not see your pitiful cousin disappearing in the air in the arms of Aphrodite?”

“I do not care what you believe. That’s the gods’ concern. I am just urging you to go back to your camp empty handed,” Jackson sneered.

Isaac, tallest of the Achaeans, grabbed his mace and marched forward with long strides, ready to crush Jackson’s skull in. But Brett and Deaton held him back, while Mason advised him to calm down and ignore the taunting of the gloating Trojans.

***

Meanwhile, Zeus almighty, father of the gods, looked down on Troy from Olympus, feeling a headache building up. The duel at the Trojan plain had not been his idea, but he had inspired the leaders of both armies to sally forth and fight each other. It had not gone according to plan.

“Well?” bright-eyed Athena called. “Are you going to do nothing?”

“What would you have me do?” Zeus replied, massaging his temples.

“Zeus, father, you cannot let this happen!”

“Listen to her,” Hera added as she walked to Athena’s side. “She speaks the truth. Aphrodite disrupted the duel. The war could have ended today, and you are allowing this to go on?”

“Half of you are helping the Trojans, and the other half the Achaeans,” Zeus complained. “Would you be making these claims if Derek had been taken to safety? Would you be troubling me if it were the Trojans demanding justice?”

“Why did you suggest Peter and Theo to march to battle today, in any case?” Hera asked with venom. “It is not like you to get involved in these cases,” the goddess added, knowing well what kind of mortal usually attracted the attention of her husband.

“If you must know,” Zeus replied, annoyed, “divine Melissa, daughter of the Ocean, asked me to return a favour. She simply wanted to please her son.”

“By making the Achaeans suffer, perhaps?” Athena ventured.

“As you say… perhaps,” Zeus said dismissively.

“I have been down amongst the mortals, and it is true that Scott has suffered insult and injury,” the goddess of wisdom continued. “You should know that Isaac, son of Telamon, is dear to me. And he is also your grandson. Would you let him be insulted by the cowardice of the Trojans?”

“Argos, Sparta, and Mycenae are cities close to my heart,” Hera added before Zeus could rebuke Athena. “I care for the soldiers of those cities as much as I care for their kings, Brett, Derek, and Peter. They are also being mocked by the Trojans!”

“Hang on—“ Zeus said, putting his hands up, asking for understanding.

“Furthermore,” Athena continued furiously. “Your children are down there right now, amongst the Trojan ranks!” The goddess of wisdom pointed down at the Trojan plain, where Ares and Aphrodite were walking around the soldiers of King Noah.

“Yes, but—“

“No ‘buts’! How can you be the king of Olympus, if you are allowing these transgressions to the laws of gods and mortals?” Hera kept on attacking, not giving her husband a break.

“How can you claim to be the umpire if you are letting one side get away with this?” Athena barked.

Almighty Zeus slowly walked back, considering carefully his current predicament. He looked down to the mortal realm, and then at the two furious goddesses harassing him. He shook his head in defeat and waved his hand away at Athena. The goddess smiled triumphantly before turning around and descending down to Troy like a shooting star.

“Thank you, darling husband,” Hera said before turning to look directly at the battle of Troy.

***

Divine Pallas shrouded herself as she walked through the ranks of the Trojans. They were still exchanging insults with the Achaeans across the battlefield, but the generals were being true to their word and respecting the truce. Athena walked pass the soldiers, looking into each of their souls, and judging who would be her most suitable target, until she found Ennis, one of the strongest warriors of Noah’s army, but dishonourable and greedy, shunned by Theo and Jackson.

_Ennis…_ a voice called behind him. _Ennis…_ the voice insisted now from his left side.

“Who calls my name,” Ennis said in a low voice, walking away from the army with his spear at the ready.

_Ennis, the glories of victory can be yours_, the voice lured him further away from the army.

“Show yourself, spirit!”

_Look at the proud Achaeans_, Athena continued without showing herself. _They come from across the sea and encircle your city with a palisade. They raid your fields and attack your allies. They call you cowards and oath-breakers._

“I’m losing my patience now, daemon!”

_You are the sharpest bowman in Troy_, the voice continued, moving around him. _The Achaeans are mocking you and your generals_.

“Enough!”

Athena showed herself to Ennis, who cowered at the sight of the goddess.

“Stand up, Ennis,” She said with a soft voice. “I have a proposal for you.”

“What would you have of me, my lady Athena?”

“This war is dragging on and on,” the goddess said as she removed her helmet. “And despite all your victories and deeds in battle, the princes of Troy despise you.”

“They do not see the war as I do, my lady.”

“I know well, which is why I am giving you this chance,” Athena threw her cloak over her shoulder, revealing a golden arrow. “You are the master archer, Ennis. You could put this arrow in between Derek’s shoulders.”

“But…”

“Think about it,” Athena continued, her voice smooth as velvet and sweet as honey. “If you take Derek’s life the Achaeans will crumble! Swift-footed Scott is not fighting for them. Peter, son of Atreos, will mourn the death of his nephew.”

Ennis’ face glowed with malice and the prospect of glory and victory.

“And think about the sons of Noah,” Athena insisted. “Stiles and Theo, tamers of horses, will be grateful and thankful. They’ll cover you in gold and bronze. Just think about it…”

_Think of the glory. Think of the cursed Achaeans…_ Athena disappeared, but her voice echoed in Ennis’ mind. Then he felt Athena’s arrow in his hand, and with a malicious smile, he turned around and headed for the battle front.

***

King Noah looked down onto the battlefield from the city walls. Her daughter Lydia and Theo’s wife Hayden were by his side, all sullen and worried. Stiles had lost the duel against Derek, which was the source of their sorrow. Even if he had been saved by divine Aphrodite (which was a great relief), their original plan to defeat the Achaeans in one last battle had not worked.

The war was not over. The Achaeans had not left. Stiles was alive – true, but he had lost the duel and stained his honour.

“Stop thinking about it, father,” Lydia said, sipping lazily from her bronze goblet. “We should be happy that Stiles is alive and well.”

“And so are Theo and Jackson,” Hayden added, trying to lighten the mood. “And nobody in Troy today will have to mourn for a fallen soldier.”

“I wish I could find comfort on those thoughts today,” Noah said as he shook his head. “But today is not a day for celebrations. Parrish!” the king called.

“Yes, my lord?” the guard said as he approached the throne that had been placed on top of the gate.

“Send for Theo. Bring him over,” the king ordered. “We have issues to discuss.”

“At once, my king,” Parrish replied with a quick bow, before running down to the assembled army.

“But make sure the army stays put!” the king yelled, as an afterthought.

Suddenly, Lydia dropped her bronze cup, spilling the dark wine over the parapet.

“Are you all good, Lydia?” Hayden asked as Lydia began to shake.

“I think we should withdraw the army, father,” Lydia said, tensing and staring blankly into space.

“Not again with your warnings, Lydia,” Hayden rolled her eyes at her sister-in-law. “What will the Achaeans think if we retreat again behind our walls?”

“Father, please,” Lydia continued to tremble as she knelt by Noah’s throne. “Father, something awful is going to happen!”

“Now, now, Lydia,” Noah said with a warm smile. “Your cousin Jackson, son of Aphrodite, will still be in command. I just asked your brother to come back!”

“You don’t understand,” Lydia said as she cried. “They are all going to die!”

“Nonsense, darling,” Noah kissed her daughter’s soft, strawberry blonde locks. “Besides,” the king added, “I have received a message from Malia, queen of the Amazons. Her army is only a two-day march from here. Once her warriors join our army there will be nothing that the Achaeans will be able to do. They won’t stand a chance!”

Noah ordered more wine to still his daughter’s nerves, but she refused to drink.

“Who’s that walking towards Jackson?” Hayden asked curiously, pointing at a cloaked soldier who was marching towards the frontline.

“I cannot see properly,” the king replied. “But he seems to be Ennis.”

“Father,” Lydia jumped up. “We need to stop him. You need to stop him_ now_!”

***

“Oh, shut _up_, Lahey!” Jackson shouted, sheathing his heavy sword and hanging his shield over his shoulder with its leather strappings. He purposefully turned around, ignoring the taunting of the Achaeans, who were already retiring back to their camp.

“The Achaeans are retreating,” Ennis said when he reached Jackson.

“Indeed…” the son of Aphrodite said with distaste. “What are you doing here, anyways?” he added in a clearly accusatory tone and not hiding his dislike to Ennis.

“I am doing what you should have done long ago,” Ennis muttered.

In a swift movement, Ennis threw his cloak to the dusty floor, revealing his dark bow with a golden arrow already mounted. Before Jackson could react, Ennis was drawing the string to his cheek and aiming high into the sky. And, then, he let go of the arrow.

“What have you done!” Jackson said as he dropped his shield and searched for his sword.

The Trojan prince saw the arrow fly high in the sky before coming down, and down, until it lodged itself into Derek’s retreating shoulder.

“You treacherous _bastard_!” Jackson yelled when he saw Derek fall to the ground.

“You don’t have to thank me,” Ennis said with a smug grin.

“Thank you?! I curse _you_ and curse all your line, Ennis!” Jackson shouted, his face red in anger.

“I have won us the war!” the warrior snarled at the Trojan prince, and jabbed his finger on Jackson’s breastplate.

“What? Are you really insane?” Jackson said franticly with wide eyes. “You have unleashed nothing but blood and revenge on us!”

He searched for his war horn and blew it, calling all Trojans to arms, and prayed to the gods that the Achaeans would be merciful against their fellow soldier’s crime.

***

“Relax, nephew,” Peter said, as he finally led Derek and the rest of the Achaean army back to their camp. “We will convince Scott to come back to the fight. We will attack again once he’s joined us.”

Derek shrugged his uncle’s hand off of his shoulder and walked away towards Mason and Deaton, his anger still simmering. But before he could call out for them, he felt an unexpected sharp pain in his shoulder. The arrow impacted with such strength that it went through his leather straps and his bronze plates, and with a muted moan of pain, he fell down on the dusty floor.

“Gods! Help!”

“Derek!” Peter shouted. Soon the Achaean generals rushed towards the fallen prince of Sparta while the soldiers formed a defensive circle around them.

“What was that?” Mason asked as he kneeled down and snapped the arrow’s shaft, so he could push it through.

“That is the Trojans breaking the truce,” Peter said, clenching his fists. A vein was visibly pulsating on his temple, and his knuckles had whitened. “Again!”

“This is the last straw,” Brett said, drawing his sword. “Call for my chariot!”

As Deaton kneeled by Mason to heal Derek, Peter unsheathed his sword and blew his war horn. Meanwhile, Isaac bellowed his war cry, slamming his fist against his breastplate to summon his soldiers, and making wide circles with his heavy mace above his head.

The Achaean troops turned around and hurriedly formed a battle line, and did not have to wait for any instructions to charge blindly at the treacherous Trojans, who had broken yet again a sacred truce and had cowardly shot down one of their generals. They were shouting their war cries, and slamming their spears against their shields, summoning their battle courage and hoping to inspire fear in the hearts of the Trojans and their Lycian allies.

“Listen to me, soldiers of Greece,” Brett called, his gleaming helmet tucked under his arm as he stepped on his war chariot. Behind him, and without nobody seeing, Athena, goddess of the art of war, was inspiring valour into the king of Argos. “This is the last time the Trojans break their word. Today we will carve our way to their city gate! Be they horseman, spear soldier, or bowman – they shall bite the ground!” he added with a final roar, and the Achaean troops that were around him cheered as they charged forward.

The Trojans loosened their arrows at the approaching Achaeans as Jackson led his men into a defensive line.

The two armies clashed, and the sound of their bashing weapons soon inundated the battlefield, broken only by the screams of pain of the fallen soldiers, which were soon numerous on both sides. Many men were injured and killed in the first clash, but the fighting lines steadied. The Achaean spearmen could not advance beyond the positions where the Trojans had decided to hold their ground. The skirmishers with their javelins and slings weakened the Trojan soldiers, but their ranks were tight, and their courage did not falter.

Camden and Isaac had led the charge on the left flank while Mason commanded the right. Peter and his chosen guard took Derek back to their camp, where Deaton was already begging Asklepios, god of healing, to preserve the life of Talia’s son. That had left Brett in charge of the army’s centre. When the battle line stabilised, he jumped off his chariot and, holding tightly to his spear, he charged towards the Achaean line. Before Brett got to the Trojan foemen, Athena again appeared by his side and created a flaming fire to protect his shield. The Achaean soldiers, seeing their general protected by the gods, let him come through until he encountered the Trojans himself.

Brett thrusted his spear into the Trojan lines over and over again, and each time he attacked, he took a Trojan life. He killed many soldiers and a number of army leaders, including relatives of Theo and Stiles, and princes of their Lycian allies. He soon created enough space around him to march forward, breaking the Trojan line as he stepped on the bodies of Noah’s fallen warriors. The Achaean soldiers soon followed the bloody canyon carved by Brett, driving deep into the Trojan army.

Across the Trojan ranks, Ennis and Jackson were fighting Mason’s soldiers, holding their ground with difficulty. While the prince slashed into the Achaean army with his bronze sword, the archer waited behind him, picking his targets carefully, and falling unexpected soldiers with deadly accuracy. Jackson was, however, the first one who noticed the desperate cries of his fellow soldiers coming from their right side as Brett fought his way through.

“I’ll take care of him,” Ennis said with a sneer, after Jackson points him out.

“You better kill him this time,” Jackson warned the other soldier. “Or else you will be drinking in the Elysian fields tonight.”

Before Jackson could finish speaking, Ennis had already let go of his arrow, which crossed the battle until it hit Brett’s thigh. This was soon followed by the Achaean roar of pain and oath of revenge.

***

“Father!” Theo, tamer of horses, called when he reached the top of the walls. “Why did you call me! The Achaeans have broken the truce and attacked us!”

“The truce was broken by Ennis,” Noah said in a sombre tone. “It is again us who have been dishonourable.”

“I’ll kill him myself,” the prince said, almost shaking in rage. “Treacherous scum… I will! I swear on Hades and his realm below that I will make him pay!”

“Theo, please don’t go!” Hayden said, ruching to her husband. “Can’t you see what Brett is doing to our men? Can’t you see the piles of wounded soldiers at his feet?” She pointed over the walls at the battlefield, her eyes full of tears.

“Hayden, my love,” Theo said, bringing her wife into a tight hug, her tears running down his armour. “I will be fine. There is no warrior amongst the Achaeans that can defeat me in combat.”

“But can’t you leave Jackson fight our enemies today? Your brother has already been wounded. Think of me, and think of your father.”

“Don’t worry about me, son,” Noah said. “I know you will obtain victory today for us. So was the will of Father Zeus.”

“Lydia, dearest sister,” Theo said without pushing Hayden away. “What shall I do?”

“Oh, now, you ask for my advice?” Lydia questioned, clearly not impressed with her tall brother. “I have nothing to say about you now. Your future has not yet been revealed to me.”

“Will you then pray and sacrifice to the gods for me?” Theo said, his voice full of hope. “You have been blessed by Apollo—“

“Cursed,” Lydia muttered, but nobody heard her.

“And both divine Aphrodite and blood-thirsty Ares are both on our side,” Theo added as Noah nodded. “Please pray to them so they will help us in this battle.”

Theo let go of Hayden as he walked to his ginger sister, kneeling down beside her, and kissing her hands.

“I am begging you, please, Lydia.”

“Oh, stand up, you massive oaf,” Lydia pushed her brother away. “I will pray to the gods, and beg for their protection. But despite the help of the gods, mortal men can only be favoured by Tyche, goddess of fortune, if they take action themselves.”

Lydia hauled her bog brother up, and kissed his cheek.

“You better go down there and fight the Achaeans,” she instructed. “Hayden and I will find Allison. Together we will pray to the gods of Olympus to help us on this day.”

As Theo walked away, followed closely by Parrish, Hayden walked to Lydia and her father.

“Will the gods help us?” she asked with hope.

“The gods seldom do things for us. They do things for _them_,” Lydia said as she kissed Noah’s cheek and walked towards Allison’s chambers. Hayden followed closely behind. “But it may be that we can benefit from their squabble. Fetch your robes; we must go to the temple now.”

***

“Blessed Athena!” Brett shouted as his soldiers formed a circle around him, keeping him away from more Trojan attacks. “Goddess of wisdom, I pray! Just grant me Ennis’ life and I shall not ask anything else from you! I swear I will send him to Tartaros today…”

The king of Argos clenched his teeth as he pushed the arrow through his leg and bandaged it. As he did that, a large roaring thunder echoed across the Trojan plain, even if there were no clouds to be seen. A hot and dry wind blew from the city walls, and the Trojan soldiers redoubled their efforst, taking this as an auspicious sign.

_Mighty Brett, king of the Argives, master of the war-cry. Ennis’ life is yours to take._ A voice whispered into Brett’s ear. _Close your eyes now, and when you open them you shall see the gods who are helping the Trojans and taking victory away from you. You are to harm Aphrodite when you see her, but do not attack any other god!_

Before Brett could ask a question, he closed his eyes, rubbed them, and a golden flash of light nearly blinded him when he opened them again. And yet, through a hazy golden thin mist, he could see three figures who had not been there before. He could see Ares, Aphrodite and Apollo fighting along the Trojans, killing his fellow countrymen.

“Blessed Athena,” Brett muttered through his clenched teeth. “I thank you for your favour, and I promise that I will make you proud today.”

He found his weapons and, with a smug smile, he charged across the Trojan soldiers until he got to Ennis and Jackson.

“You,” Brett said with a deadly flat tone, pointing at Ennis. “I’ve had enough of you today. And you,” he added, pointing at Jackson, “you are going to pay for the crimes of your cousins.”

“Just you try it, pretty boy,” Jackson taunted, bashing his sword against his shield.

“At least one of you I’ll slay today,” Brett said, getting into his fighting position. “Just letting you know.”

Ennis quickly dismissed his bow and pulled a javelin out of his quiver and, before Jackson could attack, he threw it at Brett, hitting him square in the chest.

“And this is how you kill a king of the Achaeans, prince” Ennis said as Brett fell on his back.

Ennis advanced towards the fallen king, dagger at the ready to finish the job, when Brett himself stood up and pulled the dart out from his breastplate, followed soon by a gush of blood which slowly began to heal. Ennis stopped on his tracks, his face changed completely from smug grin to shock and horror. Brett found his own spear and hurled it at Ennis with a cry of rage. The spear flew with such strength that the Trojan soldier was impaled across and sent a few yards away.

“Thank you, divine Athena,” the Achaean said looking at the sky. As he threw his helmet to the floor, he drew his sword and looked at Jackson: “And now it’s your turn.”

But Jackson had been expecting this, and he launched himself at Brett before the Achaean could finish his threatening speech. He charged forward, shield held up high, causing Brett to step to the side – exactly where Jackson had his sword at the ready, cutting into Brett’s arm, and causing him to curse. Brett was quick in the counter attack, bringing down his sword on Jackson’s shield as he placed himself in a defensive position. The Trojan had expected this, and was hiding his sword behind his large shield, so when Brett least expected it, he stabbed quickly and precisely. Brett’s leg was only saved because Jackson’s blade hit his greave.

Brett kicked Jackson’s shield, bashing it against his nose, which began to bleed immediately. But the Trojan held tight to his shield and, rather than letting go of it, he was pushed to the ground. While he was quick to roll back to his feet, Brett already had the initiative, and was clearly on the offensive. The Achaean brought his sword hard on Jackson’s shield once, twice, thrice; bashing relentlessly and pushing Jackson back at every hit. Jackson endured the attacks and waited until his opponent’s shield got stuck in his badly battered shield. When that inevitably happened, Jackson swiftly pulled his shield away, taking the sword off of Brett’s hand, and lobbing both shield and sword away.

Now it was Jackson on the attack with his sword, while Brett had been left unarmed. Without the burden of his heavy shield, the son of Aphrodite attacked more fiercely and swiftly, landing a few stabs on Brett’s arms and one on his already injured thigh, until both were covered in blood. The Achaean king stepped back quickly until he was beyond Jackson’s reach, and for a few seconds the two mighty warriors circled each other waiting for their moment.

Jackson launched an attack with his sword, but Brett anticipated the feint and, rather than blocking the sword, he bashed forward with his shield, hitting the Trojan with all his strength, sending him flying backwards. Brett dropped his shield and searched for a weapon quickly, but the only thing he could find was a large rock. Before Jackson could get back on his feet, Brett lobbed the rock at him, which landed on his belly, and was accompanied by the disturbing sound of a broken hip.

“Gods!” Jackson cried in agonising pain as Brett pulled his spear out of Ennis’ body.

“You are a worthy opponent, Jackson, son of Anchises,” Brett said with a smug smile as Jackson gritted his teeth.

Before Brett could kill Jackson, a warm gust of wind blew across the battlefield and, for the second time that day, Aphrodite, goddess of love, crossed the battlefield to carry a fallen Trojan prince away to safety.

“No- No- NO!” Brett shouted in impotence as Jackson was taken away.

Then, the king of Argos remembered the words his patron goddess had told him earlier, so he aimed his spear at flying Aphrodite, and hurled it. The spear flew directly to the goddess, but she moved brusquely, fearing the dart would kill her son. Simply because of this the blade of the spear flew pass her, cutting through her hand in the process. Aphrodite cursed as she let go of her unconscious son, who plummeted to the ground.

Brett grabbed his sword and rushed toward Jackson, in case the fall would not kill him. He fought his way through the Trojan soldiers and he only stopped when he saw bright Apollo, god of the sun, jumping up in the air and reaching for the falling hero. The Achaean warrior kept running towards him regardless, while the battle went on around him and until he reached the sun god.

“Phoebos Apollo!” Brett cried. “Hand me over the son of Aphrodite, for I have defeated him in a just battle, and his life is now mine to take.”

“Brett, king of Argos, you are threatening a god. You should know better, mortal,” the god said as he healed Jackson.

But Brett would not listen, and he got his spear ready to attack the god.

“Think very carefully before you do that, son of Tydeos,” the sun god warned. “For I can see into your future, and you are now standing before a fork on your road. No matter how you try, you will never be a match for the immortals.”

The mortal thrusted with his spear, but Apollo blocked it with ease.

“I know what my sister has told you, and that it is because of her gift that you can see me,” Apollo continued, an unconscious Jackson still by his side. “You have been warned about attacking the gods.”

“Hand over Jackson!” the Achaean cried, reaching for his sword.

“Brett, son of Tydaeos, king of Argos,” Apollo said in a threatening tone, glowing impossibly bright, and forcing Brett to cover his eyes and step back. “I shall not warn you any more. Go back to your army, leave Jackson with me, and you may still see your home back in Greece.”

The god turned around, carrying the Trojan prince with him to the safety of his city, while the Achaean prince gritted his teeth and accepted his fate with resignation. Around him, the battle sounds roared deafeningly high. Gripping his sword tight, Brett looked for Isaac and his brother Camden, who were surrounded by enemy soldiers, and charged into the thick of the Trojan army.

As he fought his way through the soldiers, Brett saw a tall and gleaming figure, which he recognised as Ares, god of war.

_You must go for him_, Athena’s whispered echoed in his mind.

“What?” Brett stopped.

_Ares is fighting your soldiers, you must go for him and fight!_

“I thought I had to stay away from the gods in battle?” Brett was confused.

_Just do as you’re told, mortal!_ Athena commanded in a surprising change of tone. Ares and Aphrodite were having an affair, everybody knew. Even Hephaistos, the lame god, and Aphrodite’s husband. And Hephaistos was on the Achaean side. Athena could only do this to her brother.

“Ares, god of war!” Brett called. “Come here and fight!”

The god turned around, surprised that a mortal could see him.

“What do you want, puny mortal?” Ares teased. “You dare fight the god of war?”

Brett stopped for a second as the god approached him, towering above him and glowing with golden light. He was wearing a black breastplate and a black helmet. He was armed with a sword as long as Brett’s arm and as broad as his leg. The Achaean prince gulped, but he felt Athena imbuing him with courage.

“You should know better than to meddle in the affairs of mortals!”

“You mean I should not interfere in a war?” the god laughed, and Brett faltered for a second, but Athena was still there with him.

The Achaean drew his sword and jumped at the laughing god, his sword divinely guided to a gap on his side, and driving his blade deep into the god’s gut. Ares had not expected that to happened, and was shocked both in pain and surprise. He pushed Brett violently to the ground as he pulled the sword from his side.

Brett struggled to get back on his feet, and for a second he feared the god’s retaliation, but he only saw Ares raging and fuming shoot up to Olympus and disappearing in the sky. Behind him, Pallas Athena stood proudly, placing her protective aegis in front of her champion.

***

“Theo, thank the gods!” Parrish shouted as he saw Theo walking down the stairs.

“Parrish of the wise counsel,” Theo asked. “What has happened?”

“Brett, king of Argos, has slain Ennis and badly injured Jackson. Only a miracle saved him from being killed.”

“Open the gates,” the prince commanded. “I am sallying out. I will challenge the Achaeans.”

“Theo, that would not be wise—“

“OPEN THE GATES!” he ordered again, drawing his sword and putting on his helmet. “I will put this battle to an end, one way or another!”

Parrish nodded, and went to the gate himself, ordering around the guardsmen unbar it. The enormous gates of Troy slowly opened, letting the sunlight in and illuminating Theo in his shiny bronze armour. The Trojan soldiers cheered as their mightiest warrior walked into battle, heading straight towards the Achaean generals.


	6. Andrós men tóde sima

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Isaac faces Theo outside Troy in a duel that could decide the war

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In Rhapsody 6 Hektor does not want to go and fight because of some silly reason. He decides to go out in 7 to sort things out. I’ve changed it a bit, but here goes the duel of Ajax/Isaac and Hektor/Theo!

_ἀνδρὸς μὲν τόδε σῆμα πάλαι κατατεθνηῶτος, ὅν ποτ’ ἀριστεύοντα κατέκτανε φαίδιμος Ἕκτωρ._

_This is the mound of the man who died a long time ago. He was the greatest of men, and glorious Hektor killed him. _   
  


Theo strode out of his city, his gleaming helmet under his arm, carrying his spear and his shield with him. The Trojan soldiers, who had been ready to walk back into their city, saw their prince and felt immediately inspired to return to the battle. The trumpets were blown and the war-horns echoed across the battlefield. The Achaean leaders called for a halt to the fight, knowing well that the presence of Theo, tamer of horses, was a game changer.

When the Trojan prince got to the front line, the Achaeans had already retreated behind their leaders. Peter, who had returned to battle from their camp, stepped forward, his face covered in the blood of his enemies. He put his sword up above him and demanded silence as Theo stood in front of him.

“What do _you_ want now, Theo son of Noah?” Peter spat his words, not hiding his hatred. “Are you going to deliver more speeches or break more oaths?”

“Listen, Peter. And listen all of you, Achaeans!” Theo shouted so his address could be heard by all the army. “I call on Father Zeus. He will be my witness this time, Achaeans. I ask you to choose one of your ranks, whoever feels in his heart that should fight me here and now.”

“You are asking for another duel?” Peter asked with a smirk. “You want us to trust your word again, Trojan? To fight a duel from which you will pull out the moment it turns nasty to you?”

Theo ground his teeth, trying to forget the loss of face they had suffered because of his brother earlier that day. He ignored Peter’s taunting and continued with his address.

“This time shall be different,” Theo said flatly. “The war can be decided now. Choose your champion, Achaeans. And if I shall kill him, I swear to Phoebos that I will take his armour from his corpse and dedicate it as a present at our temple to Apollo – but I will return his body to his companions, so that he may be buried with all the honours he shall deserve as a hero.”

The Trojan made a slow circle with his spear, challenging all and any of the Achaeans to step forward and fight him. Nobody said anything, so he continued.

“And from this day on, and once he is buried in a mound outside his city, people generations from now will stand by the monumental tomb and say ‘He’s the one who challenged Theo at the walls of Troy. He was the greatest of our men, and glorious Theo killed him!’.”

The Achaeans were weary. Theo had killed many of their army in the long years of the war, and he was the mightiest warrior of the Trojans. Only swift-footed Scott could compete against his valour and cunning. They huddle together and waited for Peter to make a decision as the armies separated and cleared an even ground between them. Theo, meanwhile, thrusted his sword into the ground to mark the limits of the duelling arena.

As Peter looked around him, the Achaean generals mumbled in hushed tones about who would be the chosen one to fight Theo, tamer of horses.

“Shame on you,” Deaton spat, pointing at all the gathered leaders. “Shame on you, sons of Greece. We have been challenged by a champion of the Trojans, and now you step back like cowards, waiting for Scott to come and save your sorry hides! If I were any younger I would march there myself simply to show the Trojans that the Achaeans do not refuse a challenge.”

With these inspiring words, a number of Achaean kings stepped forward, willing to be crowned as their champion. The first one was Peter, king of Mycenae, but soon eight others stood up as well, bashing their swords against their shields and causing their followers to roar in support. Peter looked around him and thought carefully about who of those nine warriors would become the one to fight Theo, but he decided that the champion shall be decided by lot.

The soldiers raised their voices, and begged the gods to intercede.

“Father Zeus,” they exclaimed. “Please may our champion be Isaac, or Brett, or Peter, son of Atreos!”

With a nod, Peter signalled Deaton to put a token of each of the volunteers into his helmet. When he had collected the nine, he elevated a silent prayer to Zeus and then pulled out a token from his helmet: an iron ring with the waves of the sea engraved on its surface.

“The gods have spoken,” he shouted, showing the ring he had picked around. “Our champion shall be glorious Isaac, king of Salamis!”

The army roared their approval. Peter and Brett put their arms up and hailed their champion. Isaac received the honour with a vicious smile and, ignoring the cheering and acclaiming of the Achaean warriors, he silently stood up, towering high above the rest. He put his helmet on, picked up his shield, and grabbed his heavy mace while flexing his muscles. Isaac advanced beyond the Achaean line into the no-man’s land, where Theo waited for him

***

“Hello, Theo,” Isaac said, getting so close to his adversary that Theo had to look up. “I am the chosen champion. Now you are finally going to find out for certain, one against one, what kind of leaders the Achaeans have amongst them.”

“I know very well what kind of warriors and kings you have brought in your dark ships.”

“Yeah, well,” Isaac said, not looking at him, inspecting the battle line behind Theo. “Scott may not be here today, but we do not need him to fight the likes of you.”

Theo snarled, angry both at Isaac’s disdainful comments and at his refusal to look him in the eye.

“Why don’t you stop your never-ending blabbing? I know enough about fighting and killing Achaeans. Care to see how it’s done?”

Isaac now looked down, glaring daggers at Theo.

“Come on, let’s get started. Make my day.”

The king of the Islands walked away to his corner and got ready for the fight. Theo did the same. Both warriors elevated their prayers to the gods and held firmly their weapons. In the background, a war-horn was blown and, without further delay, both champions charged.

Isaac advances with his shield, tall like a tower, in front of him. It was covered with the hides of seven wild aurochs and studded with bronze. His mace was up above his head. He set out with his war-cry and his legs striding huge beneath him.

Theo charged with his spear up first, held firmly by his strong arm. It was a spear blessed by Apollo and made of the wood of an amalthaean oak, and with it he had taken the lives of many enemies. His roar was like if monstrous Ares himself had decided to fight in his place. And just when Isaac was at the right distance, he changed the position of the spear in his hand and threw it.

The spear, gleaming like a thunderbolt, flew through the air at an incredible speed and with an unbelievable strength. Isaac had been ready for it, and he lifted his shield. The flying blade reached the Achaean’s protection, and it pierced through six layers of thick leather before being stopped by the last one. Isaac gave a silent prayer and then looked up. With his heavy mace he broke the spear that was lodged in his shield and threw the pieces away.

“Are you done with your party tricks and your dart throwing?” Isaac teased, dragging his mace heavily on the dusty ground.

“I never knew you were a witty one.”

“Oh, _believe_ me,” Isaac snarled. “I am not witty.”

With this, Isaac lunged forward with his shield, bashing it against Theo’s. When he felt the impact, Isaac immediately swung his mace in a small circle above the knocking shields, but Theo was quick and saw it coming, so he ducked and avoided the blow. From his lower position, he stabbed with his sword, aiming at Isaac’s legs, but the Achaean had already lowered his shield, and the weapon bounced off. Theo gritted his teeth and rolled back to find a better fighting position.

As he did this, Isaac took the initiative, hammering down with his mace on the ground, always a second too late to crush Theo. The Trojan prince had to keep retreating until he saw a pace where he could strike true. When Isaac lowered his mace, Theo quickly rolled to his left instead of backwards, so he was now facing at Isaac’s exposed right arm. Before the Achaean could turn around with his shield, Theo stabbed Isaac, who withdrew his arm quickly enough to avoid a bad cut, but he had to drop his mace in the process.

“Shall we fight evenly now?” Theo taunted as he quickly stepped in between Isaac and his mace.

“If that’s the only way to get you to fight rather than run away, then so be it.” Isaac spat back as he drew his long bronze sword and bashed it against his shield.

Theo gritted his teeth and pulled a confident smile as he leaped forward and attacked. He slashed and stabbed with a furious speed, keeping Isaac at bay. The Achaean had to spend all of his energy blocking with his shield the relentless attack of the Trojan. Isaac managed to stab and block Theo’s sword, but he did not manage to regain the initiative. There was only one thing he could do.

Isaac waited for Theo to strike deep. He had learned the fighting moves of the Trojan, and he could read his body position to guess what he was going to do next. So when Theo pulled his sword back and low, Isaac knew that he was going for a deep lunge. As Theo’s sword dashed forward, Isaac pulled his shield back, and took a short step backwards, so that Theo overstretched and lost his balance. Isaac then quickly turned and brought his sword down in a mighty slash. Only by blind luck Theo managed to block Isaac’s attack with his shield. But that was where his luck run dry, because now the Achaean was on the offensive.

Isaac quickly kicked Theo’s and sent him rolling away on his shield. The troops that encircled the fight cheered and gasped in equal measure, as both armies watched with expectation the combat that could once and for all put the war to an end.

“Oath breaker!” Isaac yelled as he charged at Theo, who had not managed to stand up yet.

Isaac stabbed down, but he was always a second late, as Theo kept rolling away until he managed to kick Isaac’s feet from under him, and while the Achaean did not fall to the ground, the Trojan managed to stand up and face his foe on more equal terms. Isaac growled and grit his teeth.

The battle was even, as no warrior could outdo the other. Blocks, parries and dodges came in quick succession, stopping every lunge, slash and charge. For every cut Isaac caused on Theo, Theo secured a stab. Both fighters were covered in cuts and bruises, their armours covered thick with blood, and their swords bent and dented. As Helios brought his chariot low in the horizon, I became evident that a single day of fighting was not enough to determine which of the champions was best. Accepting this, Deaton stepped forward.

“Trojans and Achaeans! Warriors of Noah and of Peter!” he elevated his hands to the sky as he spoke, and the two duellists stopped. Deaton continued. “Our mighty champions have been fighting all day. It is not fair for them to fight all through the night. Let us all return to our camps so our warriors can rest and so we can bury our dead.”

Invoking the sacred right of the fallen warriors to a proper burial convinced both sides, and even Isaac and Theo accepted to stop their duel and to call it a draw. Peter gave angry instructions to his men and, swirling his cloak, he returned to his camp. Jackson and Stiles, who had come down from the walls to see their kinsman fight, arranged the funeral of their fallen soldiers. Trojans and Achaeans were immediately busy retrieving bodies and dragging them to their camps, where they would receive the funeral they deserved as fallen heroes.

Meanwhile, at the centre of all that activity, Theo and Isaac stood still, looking at each other. Their former animosity turned to mutual respect and understanding after long hours of tied fight. The Achaean was the first to advance and put his hand out.

“That was a memorable fight, Theo, son of Noah. Your father should be proud.”

“Isaac, son of Telamon, today you have honoured your family and your countrymen. You have been a formidable opponent,” Theo accepted the hand and shook it firmly. Both warriors grinned before embracing each other. “Athena clearly smiles upon you”.

“Let us leave to gods outside the duels of mere mortals,” Isaac suggested light heartedly. “And listen, Theo, you would honour me today if you would accept my sword and my armour.”

“It would be an honour to accept them, only if you take mine in exchange.”

Isaac looked down with a cocked smile and extended his sword, pommel first. Theo then did the same. They spent a few seconds admiring and complimenting each other for their fine swords, before both removed their armours and repeated the exchange.

“I wish this war had not come in between us,” Theo lamented as they turned around to go to their respective camps.

“That was the will of the gods,” Isaac replied. “And should we not see the end of the war, we will have enough time to catch up in Elysion.”

Once he got to his tent, Isaac sent one of the slave boys to find a fine bulls in his herd and to take it to Troy, as a gift to Theo for his honourable combat. The boy darted off to do as he was told and, when he returned from Troy, he came back with a larger and more magnificent bull, which Theo had offered him as a present. Isaac gathered all his men and sacrificed the bull to Zeus. With it they had a feast which served both to show their respect to their enemy’s champion and to bid farewell to their fallen.

***

As the well-greaved Achaeans feasted, so did the Trojans. The soldiers and their families were assembled for the funerary banquet to honour all their losses. The banquet was presided by King Noah himself, who was sitting with his sons and his daughter, and all his other relatives.

Noah was tired of the war. He was tired of the death and the never-ending gloom that had taken over his kingdom. He was tired of the cries of orphaned children and widowed wives, and of old men who had lost their sons to the fury of the Achaeans. The King wished he could put an end to this war.

“What troubles you, father?” Lydia asked, placing a hand on her father’s.

“What has troubled me for the last ten years, Lydia. This dreadful war.”

Lydia had nothing to say, so she looked silently into her plate. She felt the same. She wanted nothing else but the end of the war. The problem is that she knew what was going to happen. She had _seen_ a vision of blood running down the streets of Troy, of their men slaughtered, and of Achaean warriors jumping out of a large, shadowy, wooden construction.

“Pops, cheer up,” Stiles said from the other side of the table. “Today we have shown the Achaeans that they cannot beat us out there in the battle field!”

“I think we have shown them rather the opposite,” Deputy Haigh said, killing the conversation at the royal table. The royal advisor finished his wine before continuing. “Can’t you see that we are the losing side of this war?”

“That’s very nearly treason, Haigh,” Theo said in a flat tone, his wine cup trembling in his hand as he tried to supress his rage. “None of us have seen you out there, if I remember correctly.”

“Why do you keep listening to him, uncle?” Jackson scoffed before downing his cup.

“He listens to me because I give him sound advice,” Haigh insisted. “The war is killing us slowly. We are running out of resources and besieged in our town. The moment our allies decide that we are not worth supporting or supplying we will be doomed.”

“Our allies are bound to us by oaths—“ Stiles blurted.

“You? Talking about sworn oaths? You don’t get to lecture us about respecting oaths” Haigh snapped. “You broke the one oath that has led us to this situation!”

“Enough!” King Noah yelled, standing up before Theo and Jackson could unsheathe their swords on Haigh. “We are here today mourning the loss of a generation of young Trojans! I will not have my advisors and my family fighting over a past that cannot be undone!”

Everyone at the table fell silent. Jackson, Theo, and Stiles; Hayden, Allison and Lydia. Haigh and Parrish.

“If I may speak, your highness,” Haigh said with a humble tone. Noah waved him away, allowing him to speak. “The Achaeans want the one thing. They only want Allison back.”

“You cannot offer my wife!” Stiles shouted.

“Stiles…”

“No, father. I will not let go of my love,” Stiles insisted, not looking at his father, but at his Spartan wife.

“Stiles,” Allison, the woman who launched a thousand ships, spoke. “My love. Please listen to the wise men of Troy. All of this was because of me. Perhaps I should return to the Achaeans and to Derek,” she added, tears falling down her cheeks.

“No! Allison,” Stiles kneeled on the floor to hold Allison’s hands. “Listen, my darling; I was blessed by Aphrodite with your love, and what the gods have granted, no mortal has the right to reclaim. You shall stay with me for as long as you want to. For as long as you still love me.”

“We are not giving the Achaeans a fig,” Jackson said while Allison and Stiles comforted each other and reassured that they would not be separated. “They can jump on their ships and abandon their huts, and sail back to Greece with all the beach sand they can carry, but we are not giving them Allison!”

“You fought the Achaeans this morning, cousin,” Theo said, his brow frowning. “As did I this afternoon. How long do you think we can hold our ground?”

“I never thought I’d live to see the day in which Theo, son of Noah, would consider surrendering to the Achaeans,” Jackson retorted and Stiles stood up behind him, not believing his brother’s words.

“I am not saying that we surrender, but Haigh is suggesting a peaceful solution that will prevent more deaths!” Theo insisted. “Father, listen!”

“Allison is now my daughter,” Noah reassured Stiles. “And I would not offer any of my children to the Achaeans in exchange for peace.”

“Maybe we can buy their peace?” Haigh suggested. “Maybe not Allison, but Stiles could return all the presents he brought back from Sparta.”

“I did not—“ Stiles tried to argue as Theo and Lydia rolled their eyes, while their father shook his head.

“Stiles, you ran away with the gifts of hospitality, and whatever else you could throw in your sack.”

Stiles was left with his mouth agape. He crossed his arms as he sat down with Allison and frowned.

“I can give them all the treasure I have,” Noah decided solemnly, “on top of what Stiles brought back. Anything if it will buy us peace.”

Haigh smiled at the King’s words. Jackson and Stiles had mirroring angry faces. Theo simply looked relieved. But nobody said a thing after the King spoke his mind.

***

“No.” Peter replied.

He was standing in front of a roaring fire, so the Trojan emissaries could not really see his smugly grinning face.

“We are offering you all the riches we took from Sparta, and all the treasures my father has,” Stiles pleaded again. “We are trying to buy peace! Peace for you and for us. Peace so the carnage that is decimating all of us may stop!”

“No,” Peter insisted. “We came here for one single reason and we will leave only when we have _her_ back.”

“Return my wife!” Derek growled, the veins on his neck pulsating visibly. “Bring Allison back to me!”

“She is not _your_ wife,” Stiles scoffed. “Not to the eyes of the gods.”

“I’ve had enough of you,” Derek threw his helmet to the ground and, despite still being injured from Ennis’ arrow, he brought his hand to his sword. “You disgusting little twerp. Here and now, I’m going to—“

“Easy there, nephew,” Peter put his hand on Derek’s chest, preventing him from murdering an emissary. “You will have your chance soon enough.”

“And now, all of you, listen,” Peter called aloud to the generals and soldiers that were around him. “The Trojans are desperate and begging for peace. We can all see their desperation. So listen, Stiles, son of Noah, prince of Troy: we don’t want your trinkets or your souvenirs. We want Allison. And that is final. Go back to your father, and tell him what we have decided.”

Peter turned around to look at the fire, clearly indicating that their meeting was over. Stiles balled his fists and clenched his jaw as he gathered his retinue and walked back to Troy.

***

A week passed. Neither the Trojans nor the Achaeans came out to the battle as both sides recovered their strength. In Troy Noah and his council was desperate, because the king had put most of his hopes in a possible peaceful solution, but the Achaeans would not budge.

In the morning, the Trojans decided that they needed to make one last large offensive, an attack that will show the Greeks that Troy was not beaten, and that their war was better over. Stiles had gathered enough information from what he saw in the Achaean camp to make them confident in their success. The Achaean soldiers were demoralised: hungry, hurt and homesick. From what he had spied, without the help of Scott their resolve may crumble any day now.

The Trojans charged early in the morning. The Achaeans were not taken by surprise, but were certainly not properly expecting such a frontal attack. Peter mustered all the men and distributed along the battle line on the Trojan plain, hoping to hold their ground. All the leaders of the Achaeans were to be found in the thick of the fight: Brett, Mason, Isaac, even Derek, who had recovered from his wounds, and Deaton, wise in counsel. But it was not enough. Jackson, Stiles, Parrish and Theo led the Trojans over and over again, like a never-ending tide, against the Achaean shields.

After three days of combats, the Achaeans were forced back to their camp. The last battle was fought with the Achaeans pressed against the palisade that protected their ships. Camden, Isaac’s brother, earned much fame that day with his powerful bow, with which he killed many Trojans, and Peter himself praised him in front of the assembly that they held after the Trojans finally retreated. They had won the last fight, but all the terrain they had taken during the last years was recuperated by Theo and the soldiers of King Noah.

When the assembly concluded, the men returned to their huts, and the generals followed Peter into his tent. They found him sat in one corner, sulking with his head in his hands, demanding wine from Kira. The Trojan captive nodded silently, and went to fetch his master the wineskin.

Despite the standoff with Scott about her, Peter had treated Kira with respect, treating her more like a prisoner than as a slave girl. Peter could not deny that she was beautiful beyond measure, and he wished that she would give in to his advances, but she had firmly refused him every single time. That was more frustrating that it was irritating, but at least Peter had the haughty satisfaction of being him who had her and not Scott.

As Peter drank his wine, the flap of this tent opened, and all of his generals walked in, all kitted for battle, and waiting for instructions.

“What lesson do we learn from today, son of Atreos?” Brett asked, accepting some of the wine offered by Kira. “What shall we do when divine Eos, of rosy fingers, walks along the Eastern horizon?”

Peter downed his wine and did not reply. He poured more into his cup and drank it all before helping himself again. Only then he looked up to see all his generals assembled.

“What we do, Brett, master of the spear, is think about why have the gods abandoned us!” he roared, breaking his cup against the floor. “In a single day Theo has undone what it took us ten years to secure! We might as well jump on our ships and sail back to Sparta…”

The generals knew that it was the wine speaking through Peter’s mouth, but nobody dared take the wineskin away from his hand.

“Listen, Peter, leader of men,” Brett addressed their high king. “We shall not. We will hold our ground and fight the Trojans like we have done before.”

“Brett is right,” Isaac added from the flap of the tent, ducking as he entered. “We have sworn sacred oaths to protect Derek and protect Allison. Leaving now will be to break that oath, and that would make us no better than Trojans.”

“Listen, Peter, master of the war-cry,” Mason added his opinion. “We have gathered the largest army he world has seen, and the Trojans have only won because the dissent that reigns in our camp, not because of the gods—“

“Dissent in our camp,” Peter said, finally looking up from his cup. He stood up and searched for his nephew Derek amongst the assembled kings. “Derek, my nephew, my kinsman—we will not abandon our oath, and we will regain your wife. But all of this is Scott’s fault!”

Peter slammed his fist against the table. The Achaean generals nodded silently, knowing that Peter was right, but knowing also that Scott’s refusal to fight was solely because of Peter’s fault. The king of Sparta sensed this in his men, but was too proud to admit it.

“Perhaps, if this is all because of Scott, maybe we should invite him to return to us,” Deaton suggested, looking intently at Peter, who held the stare only for a moment before looking down in defeat.

“Kings of the Achaeans,” he addressed the assembled generals. “Listen to my plea: I beg of you please go to swift-footed Scott, and ask him to come back to the fight. Offer him as many riches as he wants, but please make him return to the fight.”

The generals looked at each other, until Mason stepped forward. When Isaac saw him, he quickly advanced too, excited at the chance to have an opportunity to visit Scott. Both of them volunteered, and Peter loaded them with gifts to take with them, hoping his bribe would be well received.

***

Scott and Liam were cosily together in their tent, wrapped together under the same blanket, sitting by the fire. They were quietly drinking and playing the lyre, when one of Scott’s Myrmidons announced Isaac and Mason.

“Hey, Isaac, Mason! How good of you to come and visit!” Scott greeted them with a welcoming smile, putting the lyre down. “Please seat down and have some food. Liam and I were just playing a bit of music.”

Liam waved a little from under the blanket, but did not stand up. He threw his arm around Scott’s waist. Isaac’s heart ached when he saw this, but dared not say a thing – it was not that long ago that Scott used to invite him to his tent, even he never was as close to him as Liam seemed to be.

“Lion hearted Scott,” Mason said as he approached the fire and took off his cloak. “We come here with a plea. We come here to beg you to return to the fight.”

“Please, Scott,” Isaac added, staring into Scott’s warm brown eyes. He felt a shiver running down his spine. He blinked twice before continuing. “Our men are being slaughtered by the Trojans and their Dardanian allies. They have pushed our lines right to the palisade!”

“That is no concern of mine anymore,” Scott said with disdain as he stood up, making Liam pout. “I feel insulted that you come here one Peter’s orders, rather than as friends and out of your own volition. We are companions and brothers in arms—“

“Which is precisely why you cannot leave the soldiers of Greece at the mercy of the Trojans!”

“Do not lecture me on duties, Mason!” Scott was now getting angry, and Mason recoiled. “We all swore the oath to return beautiful Allison to Derek. And yet, when I finally find a woman who can mirror Allison’s beauty and who wants me and likes me, it is Peter who gets to have her!”

“Peter offers you silver and bronze ingots. He offers you many fine tripods, and he will sacrifice a white bull to Zeus to celebrate your return,” Mason offered.

“None of that I want, because all of that I have won from the Trojans already. I want Kira back.”

“Scott, please,” mighty Isaac pleaded next. “Forget about the plunder and the treasure, think about the soldiers who are dying, and think about the injuries and insults we have suffered from the Trojans that need avenging!”

“Isaac…” Scott almost growled, but he looked at Isaac and at the way he was looking at him and refrained himself from snapping. “I have also been insulted and injured, and I loved Kira and she would be my wife if we could, but Peter is denying me the one thing I asked for.”

“Please, Scott—“ Isaac continued, but Scott turned around, giving the emissaries his back.

“I am glad that you are doing well and that you are surviving this war, but I will not go back to the fight until Peter returns what it is rightfully mine.”

Mason sighed, knowing that their audience was over. He turned around to go when he saw Isaac frozen where he stood, looking at Scott with all the pose of someone who had left things unsaid. The king of Ithaka gently nudged Isaac and pointed at the flap of the tent with his head. Isaac sighed and slouching his shoulders, left Scott’s tent without adding a word.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m not a big fan of Theo, and I wished Isaac would have won the duel and taught that little prick a lesson for killing Scott. But Epic rules that this shall not happen. Also, if you see Greek pots of Achilles sulking in his tent when Ajax and the rest come looking for him, h e is always depicted as wrapped up in his blanket.


	7. Postquam quid Troiam pararet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> During a stormy night Brett and Mason venture out into no-man's land, hoping to learn about what the Trojans are planning againist them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Dramatis Personae in ch. 1 has been updated for better reference.

_Postquam quid Troiam pararet cognovere viri, fauces mucrone recluso detrudunt iuvenis_

_When they have learned what preparations Troy was making, they draw a sword and cut the young man’s throat_

“So he’s not moving from his tent?” Peter, leader of the Achaeans, asked as he paced around his tent. “He’s staying put. In his tent. Even _now_? Now that the Trojans are surrounding us!”

After their fruitless visit to Scott, Isaac and Mason returned to Peter’s tent, where the king of Mycenae had been waiting for them with a few other generals.

“That is what he said, son of Atreos,” Mason of many talents replied. “He’ll only concede when you return Kira to him,” he added, pointing with his chin at the Trojan captive who was standing in the corner. Peter let out a growl.

“If we can’t get Scott to fight for us we are doomed to be trapped behind our palisade,” Isaac explained the obvious. “We have only got provisions for a couple more weeks. We are to starve to death or return home in shame.”

“Uncle,” Derek said, shaking his head. “Why don’t you return Kira to Scott? He clearly loves her, and your insult is costing us dear.”

“He was the one insulting me, nephew!” Peter insisted, barely containing his anger.

“I think you’ve insulted him further,” Brett called out, leaving his wine cup on the table, and pointing his finger at Peter. “You tried to bribe him back into the fight with trinkets, when you know perfectly well what he wants! Scott is a proud man, and with your petty offerings and promises you have driven him further away. Can’t you see?”

The generals in the tent remained silent, knowing well that Brett was speaking the truth.

“I think that it’s better if we all let Scott’s anger simmer down,” Brett continued. “And we all take the opportunity to go to sleep and think about what options we have, because our time is running short.”

Isaac, Derek and Mason looked at Brett, and nodded in approval before turning to look at Peter, whose face showed only anger and frustration.

“Let us retire to our tents,” Peter added after a few heartbeats of tense silence. “But Deaton, son of Naios, and wisest of my advisers, please have one more wine with me.”

The leaders of the Achaeans slowly made their way back to their huts, until it was only Deaton and Peter sipping silently from the cups that beautiful Kira kept full of wine. After a couple of hours of quiet conversation, the night sky darkened with clouds, and the two kings heard the roar of distant thunder. Peter and Deaton stepped out from the tent and looked at the pitch-black sky above them with worry. Soon the air rattled with rolling thunder, much closer this time, and the night was illuminated with lightning, a clear sign that Father Zeus was favouring the Trojans.

“My old friend,” Peter said as he looked at the stormy sky with determination. “If the Trojans have won Zeus to their cause there is very little else for us to do. And yet…”

The king of Mycenae threw his wine cup away and dried his mouth with the back of his hand, while he placed his other hand on Deaton’s shoulder.

“Pray say, son of Atreos, what are you planning to do?” Deaton said as he turned his head to look at Peter while wrapping his cloak tighter around his shoulders.

“I’ll go and fetch my armour,” Peter squeezed Deaton’s shoulder. “Call for Derek. And for Mason and Brett and Isaac!” and with that he turned around and walked back into his tent.

“What shall I tell them?”

“Tell them tonight is the night we turn the tide.”

***

That night King Noah came down from Troy to spend the night at the advanced camp, setting up his tent at the centre of his warriors. Lydia, Allison and Hayden had come with him too, eager to witness the final victory of their men against the Achaeans. When the sky rattled with the sound of thunder, the king took it as a good omen, and called for an urgent meeting of his war council.

“Listen to me, warriors of Troy,” Noah announced when his generals had finally gathered. “We have pushed the enemy away and now they are cowering by their ships. We have surrounded them. Our Thracian allies have already landed and Queen Malia of the Amazons is bound to arrive soon. And yet, the Achaeans are not defeated.” The generals listened carefully to their king, knowing that he spoke the truth. “And this is why we need to find their weak spot and attack while they are still licking their wounds.”

The generals assented in agreement. This was their chance to wipe out the Achaeans, if they played their cards correctly.

“My father has envisaged a last push; the ultimate heave that would send the Achaeans back to Greece and bring peace to our kingdom,” Theo spoke to the generals next. “But the well-greaved Achaeans are not beaten yet, for they have many strong warriors, and even mightier kings. This is why we need to weaken their resolution and damage their morale. We need to attack their ships!”

“Without their ships the Achaeans are stranded here and shall soon be defeated. Or if they value their lives, they will protect their ships and sail away in them,” Jackson explained Theo’s plan. “No matter what strength or bravery the Greek foes may deploy; victory will be ours if we capture their ships!”

The generals agreed with confident smiles.

“But first, leaders of the Trojans, we need to know about their ships,” Stiles said from a corner. The generals turned around to listen to what the prince had to say. “We need to find out where exactly are they and how protected. Otherwise… otherwise we may launch an attack that could turn quickly against us if their defences are strong.”

“We need a spy, then?” Parrish asked.

“We do indeed,” Noah assented.

***

“Gather here, men of Troy, soldiers of King Noah,” Theo called outside the king’s tent, Jackson standing tall by his side. “We are at the edge of the Achaean camp, and the laurels of victory are within reach.”

The generals and soldiers assembled in the tent assented, their faces lit by the burning fires.

“But the enemy is not yet defeated,” Jackson spoke up, and Theo nodded. “The Achaeans are proud, and think themselves to be the better warriors, despite the evidence...” The soldiery chuckled in support. Jackson smirked as he looked into the eyes of his men. “This is why we need to wound them in their most vulnerable pride. We must show them that they are not as clever or as strong as they think, and we must show them that Father Zeus is on our side.”

“My cousin speaks the truth,” Theo agreed as he stepped to the centre of the assembly. “Which is why I now must ask for a volunteer. I need one of you to step forward and, in exchange, I promise you the fastest chariot and the strongest horses in the Achaean camp!”

The soldiers shifted where they stood, uncertain about what to do. The best chariot and horses in the Achaean camp belonged to Scott, the mightiest of their warriors, and the kind of prize that only Theo, Jackson or Stiles would dare claim as theirs, for those magnificent spoils rightfully belonged to Noah, their king. Such a prize could only come after a dangerous and daring mission.

“I will volunteer, Theo, tamer of horses!”

The assembly erupted in a hubbub of muttering and surprised gasping as Brunski, one of King Noah’s most veteran warriors, stepped forward. Brunski had a fearsome reputation, and his greed greatly exceeded his sense.

“Brunski, my father’s loyal warrior!” Theo said with a satisfied smile. If anyone was capable of carrying out this dangerous mission, that was him. “Your valour will be greatly rewarded.”

Brunski smiled, the chariot and the horses already his in his mind. “What needs doing, son of Noah? What task have you thought for me that will win us the war?”

“Come into the tent,” Jackson indicated and pointed towards the royal pavilion, where Stiles was already waiting for them, his arms crossed over his chest.

The soldier did as he was told, following Jackson towards the tent, Theo striding close behind them, while the rest of the soldiery returned to their positions, excited about the prospect of their upcoming victory.

***

“What on Earth are you doing at this time of night?” Mason asked Deaton as he stepped out of his tent. “At this ungodly hour during a storm, whatever you’re doing must be serious indeed.”

“Mason, king of Ithaka,” Deaton said, his mouth a thin line. “Your awakening is fatefully timed. Fetch your armour and your spear and follow me.”

“Tell me first,” Mason insisted. “What is the reason for this secrecy?”

“Peter, leader of men, has thought of a plan that will give us the final advantage over the Trojans,” Deaton whispered. “But time is precious, so we must hurry. Come and find us at Brett’s hut near the palisade.”

Without saying any more, Deaton sped away into the storm, leaving Mason intrigued about the plan. The king walked back into his tent and grabbed his battle equipment. When he finally made it to Brett’s hut, he saw that there were a few of the Achaean generals already there.

“Mason! Good to see you,” Peter said, his face only half-illuminated by the dim orange light of the oil lamp. “I have a plan that will give undermine the plans of the Trojans.”

“You’ve said that _already_, uncle,” Derek said, barely containing a yawn. “Please explain yourself before I decide to return to my hut with my men.”

“Patience, dearest nephew. Patience! We are just waiting for— aha!”

Before Peter could finish his sentence, Isaac ducked into Brett’s hut, fully clad in bronze and ready for battle.

“What is the purpose of this meeting?” Isaac said without introduction.

“Tonight I am asking Brett, master of the war cry, to lead a small party into Theo’s camp,” Peter revealed. “We don’t have to put anyone in danger, we just need someone to venture there and obtain information. We need to do it under the cover of darkness, and we have to do it _quickly_.”

“The Trojans have advanced their camp away from their city walls. They are within sight from our palisade. They are overconfident and arrogant, and _that_ will be their downfall,” Brett explained. It was clear that Peter had already discussed this with him.

Derek, Deaton, Isaac and Mason, the four other persons gathered in the tent, fell silent.

“This is a very daring plan, uncle,” Derek said cautiously. “We are cornered in our palisade and the Trojans are surely surrounding us. It is going to be dangerous,” Derek affirmed. Nobody objected. “And before anyone questions my bravery, I am just voicing the concerns I know we all share.”

“What exactly do you want to learn from the Trojans?” Isaac asked, rubbing mindlessly his chin as he looked at Peter, clearly thinking about their next move.

“We need to know what the Trojans are planning to do next and where are they planning to attack in the morning so we can be prepared,” Peter explained.

Mason and Deaton nodded at this. They both were the wisest and most cunning of the Achaeans, and their approval of the plan made Peter feel more confident in their chances.

“It is indeed our only option,” Deaton agreed.

“Perhaps not the only one,” Mason objected. “But clearly the best one in our current situation.”

“I shall sneak through our palisade and into the Trojan camp,” Brett explained. “But I will need one more person to come with me. I thought maybe Mason would like to accompany in this mission?” he asked helpfully.

“And you, Derek and Isaac,” Peter chipped in, seeing that both warriors were already unhappy with this, as if leaving them behind implied they were not good enough for this mission. “I need you to stay with me and a handful of chosen men to guard the gate, ready to sally forth and protect the return of Brett’s party.”

That seemed to placate Derek, while Mason and Isaac showed their approval.

“What are we waiting for then?” Isaac asked with a side smile as the assembled Achaeans walked out into the stormy night.

***

Once in the tent, Stiles and Theo explained their plan to Brunski. The plan was simple enough: sneak around the palisade, reach the beach, and find out if the ships were protected. Jackson had further warned him about the disposition of the Achaean palisade and Stiles added what they knew about the Achaean sentinels. But Brunski had dismissed Jackson and Stiles’ warnings and advice, for he had been a warrior for much longer than the two princes. He arrogantly demanded that Theo swore an oath, so after the war he would get the chariot of Scott and his magnificent horses, which the Trojan prince did.

The veteran warrior was soon outside the Trojan palisade, crouching behind a bush, and giving Theo a last wave before dashing into the darkness that covered the no-man’s land separating the two camps. He wore a wolf skin over his head and shoulders, and walked on all fours, hoping in this way not to be detected. Keeping low, and with his spear close to his body, the soldier advanced towards the shore, guided by the roar of the waves in the distance. His mind was already thinking about the promised prize: Scott’s horses, descendants of Poseidon’s own herds, and his gold and bronze chariot.

He advanced slowly, always keeping an eye on the fires of the Achaean camp that glowed in the distance, heading towards the shore. When he got to the sandy dunes lined with pines that formed just before the beach, Brunski stood up for a second to assess his position. From atop the dune, and leaning against one of the trees, the Trojan warrior could see the Achaean. A thousand ships dragged onto the beach, leaning on their bellies like beached whales. Brunski smiled to himself – the chariot and horses were already _his_. He only had to reach a bit further so he could inspect the surroundings of the fleet. But he never made it that far, because before he could step any further a bronze spear-blade was pressed against his neck.

“Tell us your name, and what you are doing here, Trojan.”

Brunski cursed as he slowly turned around. Behind him were two Achaeans: Brett and Mason. The Trojan huffed in frustration, putting his hands up while Brett took away his weapons.

“Speak now,” Mason insisted. He had been the one asking him, levelling his spear against the Trojan’s throat. “For we are in a hurry.”

“You and your hurry can all rot in the pits of Tartaros,” Brunski defied as he spat. Brett quickly punched him in the gut, forcing him to kneel down in pain.

“We have no time to deal with the likes of you,” Mason said, still holding the spear. “Tell us what we want to know.”

“He is Brunski,” Brett said. “I recognise him from the battle field. He is a sworn enemy of Finstock, Coach of the lacrosse team.” Brett took of Brunski’s wolf pelt and landed a punch in his face.

“Speak,” Mason insisted, keeping his calm.

“Go back to your camp and hide behind your palisade, Achaean pigs!”

Brett punched him again.

“Listen, Brunski. We have no time,” Mason spat, gripping his spear tightly. “Tell us what you were doing here, near our camp. And if we like your answer, we _may_ let you live.”

“It’s too late for that,” Brett said as he pulled his dagger out and got ready to stab.

“Wait!” Brunski begged. “Wait- wait. I’ve been sent to inspect your ships. I just needed to know if they were protected! Theo, tamer of horses, promised that I would get the chariot and horses of swift-footed Scott if I returned with this information!”

Brett and Mason looked at each other. This was clearly the information they needed, but something was off.

“Those horses are great gifts your heart set on,” Mason asked. He gave Brett a quick glance, and he returned a nod with a smile. “It’s a shame you shall never see them.”

“We will consider letting you go,” Brett took over the interrogation, “but you must tell us more.”

“Anything,” Brunski begged. “Anything, please!”

“Where was Theo seen last? Where in your camp? And where are the sentries? And what is your fighting plan for the morning?

Brunski was not willing to speak and betray his prince and his king, but Mason prodded him with the blade of his spear, and all of the Trojan’s resolution vanished.

“Theo is gathered in his tent with Stiles, Jackson and the other leaders of the Trojans. But why would you want to get into the Trojan camp? The Thracians have just arrived, our allies from across the straits,” Brunski was now blurting information that hopefully would be worth his life. “Their king has brought his horses, beautiful, strong, and as white as snow. They’re across the forest, not that far from here. And he has also brought his silver-lined war chariot, which is meant to be a present for King Noah!”

The Trojan looked hopefully at his captors, hoping they would be content with that information.

“What about the Trojan camp?” Brett insisted. “Where is Theo’s tent?”

“I don’t know,” Brunski replied.

“He’s lying,” Mason said, his spear still ready.

“I’m not!” the captive Trojan insisted.

“He is,” Brett agreed.

“No, I swear on the gods,” Brunski was now desperate in his plea.

Mason was about to ask, but Brett shook his head, put a hand up and kneeled down by their prisoner. “Listen, Trojan. We have captured you, and you have told us all what we need to know, but nobody will pay a ransom for you, because you’re a nobody.” Brunski gritted his teeth as he felt his desperation changed to anger boiling inside him – he did not like the way the conversation had turned. “And if we let you go, you will return to your camp and warn all the Trojan army. Or else you will go to spy on our ships and then return to your camp.”

“No, no, no, no, listen—“

But before Brunski could state his case, Brett sunk his dagger into the Trojan’s throat, covering the sand with dark blood.

“Now we find those prized Thracian horses, which will be a fine present to Athena.”

“They will indeed,” Mason agreed. “We must take the Thracian horses and bring them back. If we do so, the Trojans will not be in a position to attack in the morning, simply because of the confusion we shall create in their camp!”

With a quick nod, the two Achaeans turned away and headed towards the enemy territory, vowing to offer to the gods all the spoils of war they captured that night. In a few minutes they were outside the Thracian camp, hidden in the bushes. The Thracians had arrived in such a rush that they had not even set up a palisade, and their sentinels were patrolling lazily the perimeter around their tents.

“Look ahead, Brett, master of the war-cry,” Mason said in a low voice as he pointed towards the camp. “That tent in the centre is the royal tent of the Thracians. They have no wall nor palisade around their huts, and their soldiers are tired from the rushed trip. This is our perfect chance.”

“So be it then,” Brett said with a grin. “Let us pray the gods for a swift entrance, a short battle, and a quick retreat!”

They quickly and silently killed three of the sentries with their bronze daggers, and dragged their bodies away from the light cast by the fires. Swiftly, they made their way to the royal tent and there they saw the Thracian silver chariot with its snow-white horses, which were even more magnificent than they had imagined from Brunski’s description.

“Son of Tydaeos,” Mason whispered at Brett. “Enter the royal tent and kill the king and the princes ow that we have this chance, while I harness the horses and get ready to draw the chariot.”

“You’ll have me kill our enemies in their sleep?” Brett objected.

“Then I shall do it while you tend to the horses,” Mason replied, irritated. “But this is no time to argue if you want us to have a chance against the Trojans in the morn; and pray Athena for strength and speed, for we’ll need it if we want to get back to our ships.”

Tydaeos’ son gritted his teeth and drew his sword. With a swift movement he entered the tent and stabbed the king of the Thracians, who died with a gurgle of blood in his sleep, and so did the princes and soldiers that shared his tent. Brett was ready to cut another Thracian’s throat when a warm breeze blew into the tent, and the king of Argos stood still.

_Brett…_

“Mason?” the Achaean whispered. But Mason was not there, only the warm breeze whirling around him.

_Brett, you must go now._

“Lady Athena!” the mortal muttered in sudden realisation while the divine wind kept circling him.

_Brett, my champion, you must go now, for Theo and the Trojans will soon be upon you._

“Wait—“

_Go!_

The warm draught stopped. The tent was completely silent. Without any delay, Brett walked out of the tent and saw that Mason had already managed to strap the chariot to the horses.

“Mason, we must go!” the king of Argos shouted in a whisper. “There’s no time to explain! Just go!”

As he said this, both Achaeans heard a voice of alarm being called by the Thracians. Mason stabbed one more sleeping Thracian while Brett jumped on the chariot and, yelling at the horses, they drove away. 

***

Stiles was pacing up and down the tent, eating grapes mindlessly and throwing the seeds on the floor. Noah, Lydia and Hayden had long ago gone to sleep.

“Stop it,” Jackson complained. They had been awake all through the night waiting for Brunski to return.

“I can’t,” Stiles replied as he chew on another grape.

“Please, Theo, talk some sense into your brother,” Jackson insisted, rolling his eyes.

“There’s nothing I can do,” Theo said, walking towards the flap of the tent, leaving the two other princes behind him. “Why do you think he’d listen to me, anyways? If he _ever_ listened to me we wouldn’t be in this situation.”

“I heard that, big bro!” Stiles said, fishing for more grapes out of a bowl. “Ok, but do explain, because I can’t still get my head around this plan. Why did we trust Brunski with this mission? I mean, he’s sly, and a liar, and ruthless and… I don’t trust him.”

“You don’t have to _trust _him, Stiles,” Jackson said with exasperation. It was not the first time he had to argue with the Trojan prince about it. “He’s an experienced warrior. He knows what he’s doing.”

“Yeah, yeah… but he’s cruel, and _greedy_, and- and…” Stiles sat by Jackson’s side, still struggling to describe his dislike of the man. “He’s not the kind of warrior I’d have entrusted this mission. Gods above, Theo! He made you swear an oath that you would deliver the chariot of Scott to him after the war! What kind of dishonourable man would do that? Who would put his prince in such a position before accepting a mission?”

Jackson rolled his eyes and decided not to reply, even if he agreed that a lowly soldier had no right to force a prince to swear an oath. He stood up and walked to Theo, who was still in his armour and purposefully ignoring his brother’s complaints. Jackson patted his cousin’s shoulder, but Theo kept staring at the dark night horizon, towards the Achaean camp. Jackson was about to say something when a soldier came running to the tent.

“Divine Theo, son of Noah! The Thracian camp is under attack!”

“What?!” Theo exclaimed while Jackson quickly turned to look for his sword and Stiles tried to cough out the grapes that were choking him.

“The sentries were found dead by a patrol, but by then it was too late, and a great number of screams are coming from around the king’s tent!”

“Blow the horns! Wake father up!” Theo, tamer of horses, was red with fury. How dared the Achaeans attack them dishonourably in the dead of night? “Call the alarm! And double the guards around our camp! Stiles, Jackson, get ready for battle!”

***

Mason and Brett were dashing through the forest, dodging the arrows and javelins that the Thracians were hurling at them. They had escaped right in time, avoiding the numerous Trojan warriors that were flooding into their allies’ camp. Up above the strong wind coming from the sea had driven the storm clouds away. Now, behind them and towards the East, divine Eos of rosy fingers broke the night’s darkness and the bright chariot of the sun began its climb above the horizon,

“Open the gates!” Mason and Brett called once their own camp was within sight. “Open the gates, Peter, leader of the Achaeans!”

In the distance, the palisade gate slowly opened, and a number of soldiers came out to welcome the warriors. They slowed the chariot down, and only stopped when they were inside the palisade, surrounded by cheering soldiers who kept calling their names, and praising the gods who were clearly smiling on them.

“Peter!” Brett called, ignoring the cheers around them. “Peter, son of Atreos! Where is Peter?”

“Mason! Brett!” Derek welcomed them with a wide smile. “These are magnificent horses, fit for a king! And that chariot is even finer. Where in Hades did you find these?”

“Brilliant Derek, leader of soldiers,” Mason said, putting a hand on the other man’s shoulder. “There is no time to lose, we need to find Peter and we need to call the alarm and shut the gates.”

Derek’s smile vanished from his face when he heard this words. “What happens? Speak! What did you learn about the Trojan plans?”

“Call for Peter,” Brett insisted. “And rally Isaac, and Deaton, and Camden, and Scott, and Liam, and all of the men that we brought in our dark ships from across the wine-black sea! For Theo and the Trojans are marching on us!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we're in Rhapsody 10 already! In two more chapters we'll have the death of Patroklos, the funeral two chapters later, and the capture of Troy after two more!


	8. Espete nyn moi Mousai

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Theo and the Trojans have cornered the Achaeans in their camp, and prepare and assault on their ramparts

_Ἔσπετε νῦν μοι Μοῦσαι Ὀλύμπια δώματ᾽ ἔχουσαι, _ _ὅς τις δὴ πρῶτος Ἀγαμέμνονος ἀντίον ἦλθεν ἢ αὐτῶν Τρώων ἠὲ κλειτῶν ἐπικούρων_

_Tell me please, muses that dwell on Olympus: who was the first of the Trojans or their famous allies who went to attack Agamemnon?_

Dawn came, her rosy fingers spreading through the eastern sky, and the men of Troy, led by Theo, Stiles and Jackson, poured out of their camp, raging at the daring of the Achaeans who had surreptitiously and with the cover of night entered their ally’s camp and slaughtered the king of the Thracians. The Trojan soldiers cried havoc and called for revenge and retribution, and King Noah himself asked Zeus to guide his men in the battle against the palisade of the invading Achaeans.

But before Theo could leave the palisade, two figures called him back. Standing by the gate of their camp, the Trojan prince could see his dear sister Lydia and his loving wife Hayden.

“Stop where you are, Theo, tamer of horses,” Lydia said, tears running down her face. “The line of King Noah is doomed to fall. I have seen it – Apollo has let me know! If you go and fight the Achaeans today you will only bring death and fire to your own city.”

“Dearest Lydia, of strawberry-blond hair,” Theo replied softly, moved by her sister’s words. “The will of the gods is for us to drive the Achaeans into the sea and save our brother’s wife Allison from those brutes from across the ocean.”

“Don’t you dare say that, Theo,” Hayden snapped, placing a cursing fist on her husband’s breastplate. “This war has nothing to do with either your brother or our beloved Allison. All this is about your own search for glory!” Hayden was angry, but her words were heavy with fear. “Don’t you understand that if you go out there you will only cause pain and suffering to us all? Do you want me to become a widow? Or your father to mourn his son?”

“Theo, my brother, listen to your wife!” Lydia continued. “Would you want our father begging swift-footed Scott for your corpse? Do you want to see our streets running with blood? Or me dragged into slavery? What will happen to those few of us who survive? Doomed to flee our country, scattered across the world without ever returning to our homeland!”

Theo remained silent as the two women poured out their concerns and their tears.

“Scott McCall will come forth from his camp, Theo, son of Noah,” Lydia warned. “This has been revealed to me. And when he comes out, he will come and find you, and you shall be slain.”

“Lydia and Hayden,” Theo said as he removed his helmet, so his wife and sister could see the tears running down his cheeks. “It is my duty towards my country and my father, King Noah, to go out to the battlefield and defeat our enemies. If I am to become the leader of our people one day, I must bring back the blood of our enemies and offer it to Father Zeus. And if Scott dares come out and fight me, I will pin him down with my spear and spill his blood on our Trojan land.”

“You stubborn ox!” Hayden cried in disbelief as she collapsed on her husband’s arms.

“Lydia! Hayden! Whatever troubles you today?” Stiles said as he walked towards his family. “What is the reason for this crying? Today we should celebrate! Today is when we finally defeat the Achaeans!”

“You are a fool if you truly believe those words, brother,” Lyda said with a sombre tone. “Today there will be a clear victor if you march against the Achaeans and their ships.”

“See? Who but us could win today, Lydia?” Stiles managed to smile while Theo tried to console Hayden’s sobs. “Three of their warriors entered the camp of our trusted allies. Their crime shall not come unpunished!”

“Don’t speak about crimes, Stiles,” Lydia’s warning was glacial. “For you know well what crime against the gods has put us in this situation.”

“Dear sister, I won fair Allison’s love through Aphrodite’s divine intervention. The quarrelling of the Achaeans is what goes against the will of the goddess,” Stiles barked back as he put his helmet back. “Come on, Theo. You must lead our men into battle.”

With that Stiles turned around and walked away, soon followed by Theo, who kissed his wife and sister goodbye before joining the ranks of Trojan soldiers.

Hayden fell on her knees, dirt and sand staining her linen dress. She placed her veil over her head, and covered her face in mourning. Lydia knelt by Hayden’s side, failing to hold back her tears. She pulled her up, and vailing herself in a similar fashion, walked back to the gates of Troy.

***

Behind their own palisade, the men of Greece rallied around their kings and champions. They climbed up to their battlements and reinforced the gate, all while they tightened and fastened their greaves and their armour, for such was the hurry in which they had been summoned. Peter, leader of men and son of Atreos, took his chosen guard and stood outside the main gate, forming a tight defensive circle in front of their defences’ weak spot. Meanwhile, Brett and Mason with all their soldiers, stationed themselves behind the palisade. Deaton, eldest and wisest of the Achaean kings, stayed in the rear-guard, observing carefully with the reserves. Derek and Isaac, together with his brother Camden, keen archer, were sent to the far flank, protecting the beach and the ships.

Even in this time of need, when the Achaeans were cornered against their camp and fighting for their very lives, swift-footed Scott and his myrmidons refused to fight.

***

“Brother!” Theo called Stiles as the Trojan army reached the edge of the plain. “Today is the day we finally push the Achaeans into the sea. I want you and Jackson to lead the attack to the gate.”

“The gate?” Stiles asked trying to keep up with his brother’s strides. “I thought we wanted to capture their ships?”

“We do, cousin,” Jackson said with a smirk. They had reached the pines by the dunes and he had given the signal for the soldiers to stop and wait. The Achaean camp was now within sight. “That is why we need to draw the Achaeans troops _away_ from their ships.”

“You were always a clever one, weren’t you?” Stiles replied as he crouched by his brother and spied over the low bushes.

“_And_ a pretty one,” Jackson answered.

“I will take half of our army and march behind the dunes to the beach,” Theo said after shushing his brother. “You two must charge against the Achaean gate with the other half and all of our allied troops: the Lycians and the Lydians, and the Thracians from beyond the sea. When you reach their palisade,” he instructed looking into his brother’s eyes, “blow your horns and make a sign for us to charge across the beach.”

Stiles scrunched his face as he thought, and looked anxiously from Theo to Jackson and back, considering the plan.

“Is it wise to split our forces? I mean,” Stiles said, turning around to face Theo, and nervously scratching his head under his helmet. “Surely we could simply overwhelm the Achaeans on the one spot. We could simply overrun them in such a way and then burn their ships.”

“Too much blood will be spilled on both sides if we force everything on one charging attack,” Theo replied calmly, his eyes still observing the Achaean palisade. “We should not risk our soldier’s lives like that.”

“The diversion will work, cousin,” Jackson commented with a smirk. “Trust your brother, leader of the Trojans. Today we shall crush the Achaeans.”

***

In the clouds of Olympus, Zeus, King of all Gods, observed down at the mortals in Troy, who scurried around like ants circling spilled honey. He pulled out his scales, crafted by Hephaistos himself, and weighed the fates of the two armies in his balance.

Ares, Poseidon, Apollo, and Athena were all around him observing the verdict of Fate.

The balance of the Achaeans sank down.

***

“Charge!” Stiles cried at the top of his voice, and all the Trojan army stood up, and charged down towards the Achaean palisade from the pine-covered dunes.

As soon as the first wave of men had gone ahead, Stiles and Jackson, clad in armour, drew their swords and charged down with the second wave.

Up in front, the Trojans were approaching the Achaean palisade, while the defenders hurled javelins and darts at them. Before the Trojans reached the stakes, however, the gates opened and Peter himself sallied out, surrounded by his most loyal warriors, bringing the Trojan advance to a sudden halt. Peter was soon followed by Brett, master of the war cry, and behind him came Mason of many talents. The combat was fierce, and many Trojan soldiers perished under the spears of the Achaeans.

The sally was so successful that the Trojans never reached the palisade, completely jeopardising their original plan.

“Push with your men into the thick of the Achaeans,” Jackson instructed Stiles through gritted teeth. “You must hold the Greeks and stop their advance.”

“And what will you do meanwhile?” Stiles defied.

“I’ll try to push to the palisade,” Jackson explained. “We must reach the palisade before we give the signal. Otherwise the ruse won’t work.”

With that, Jackson waved his spear above his head and rallied his oath-sworn spearmen around him leading them towards the Achaean wall. Stiles huffed and set his jaw before calling for his own guard.

“Parrish!” Stiles called as he pointed his men towards Peter and Brett. “Parrish, come over!”

“Yes, my prince?” the warrior, who had been waiting by the pines commanding the third Trojan wave, asked once he reached Stiles.

“Take a message to my brother. Tell that Peter, son of Atreos, has stopped our attack. We have not reached the palisade yet,” Stiles admitted, not without bile. “Let him know that the Achaeans are holding their ground and that Jackson is trying to storm the wall, but that we are not just there quite yet.”

“Yes, my prince,” Parrish replied with a salute, and soon headed towards his chariot to warn Theo of the development of the main battle.

Stiles then bellowed his war-cry, inspiring his men for one extra push and calling the third wave of soldiers to join in the fray. Advancing directly towards the gate, soon he was within reach of Peter, who was slashing and stabbing with his sword, felling Trojans like trees in a forest.

“Peter, leader of men!” Stiles called. “Fight me here and now, and we can spare the lives of our soldiers!”

“Well, if it isn’t the Trojan prince who twice affronted my nephew,” Peter snarled, pointing at Stiles with his dripping sword. “Haven’t you already fought us in single combat? I seem to remember you not doing well…”

“I am yet to see you taking part in a fair and square fight, Peter,” Stiles taunted as a circle began to form around him.

“I’ll take care of him, Peter,” Brett called, towering above the other warriors, when he saw the Trojan prince.

“There will be no need for that, Brett of Argos,” Peter said with a sinister smile. “Whatever he and his dishonourable brother are plotting, we shall not take the bait.”

Peter’s grin grew wider and Stiles began to feel his resolve crumbling.

“Achaeans, listen to me!” Peter cried above the clanging noises of the battle around them. “We will not step back! We will not retreat! We will not let the Trojan dogs reach our palisade and threaten our camp!”

Behind them, beyond the gates, a loud scream of approval was heard, and the Achaeans charged forth into the Trojan lines.

Slowly and painfully, inch by inch, the Greeks drove their enemies back. Jackson never reached the stake walls, and by the time Theo and the rest of the Trojan army had reached the main battlefield, the day was clearly won by the Achaeans.

The san began to sink in the West. With victory songs and hymns of glory, the Achaeans pushed the Trojans up to the crest of the dunes, from where the men of Noah fell back towards their camp.

***

Back in the camp, Theo and Jackson had to endure an entire evening of Stiles’ ‘I told you so’s’, but the mood of the army was already sullen enough without Stiles’ complaints. Noah, Lydia, Allison and Hayden had visited their relatives during the night, the four of them in tears, but yet again Theo was not moved, and insisted on attacking the following morning.

Dawn came, and Theo concentrated all of his men on the attack on the gate.

“Today we shall crush the Achaean’s will,” Theo announced. “We must bring down their leader, Peter son of Atreos: if we bring down their king, the Achaeans are sure to crumble. Their best warrior, swift-footed Scott, is nowhere to be seen! If their champion does not even dare come out to fight, how are the Greeks going to resist our attack without their leader?”

The Trojans soldiers cheered and bashed their spears against their shields. Stiles ordered the war horns to be blown, and, with a sign, Jackson jumped on his chariot and led the men towards the Achaean camp once again.

The Achaeans were already waiting for them outside their palisade, with a large number of them already behind the stakes, readying their bows.

“The Achaeans are cowering behind their walls, and fighting dishonourably with bows and arrows,” Jackson snarled an encouragement to his soldiers. “Let us show them how real warriors fight! For Troy and for King Noah!”

And so Jackson cried as he charged against the Achaean ranks, soon followed by the rest of the Trojan army.

The battle was fierce. The clang of sword against shield drowned only by the cries of men killed by the enemy spears. The Achaeans rained arrows on the Trojans, slowing their advance, and so numerous were the bolts that they blocked the sun, and so sharp the barbs that they pierced the toughest shields and the strongest armour. Many warriors won renown that day for their deeds in battle, but far greater was the number of soldiers that never returned home to their families after that battle.

Following Theo’s instructions, the Trojans aimed to bring Peter down, but the King of the Achaeans fought like a lion, killing all the Trojans that dared come close to him. Around the son of Atreos, a puddle of dark blood turned the soil into mud, as every single Trojan warrior was pierced by Peter’s blade. So Jackson stepped forward and faced Peter in the battle line, both of them still surrounded by their trusted warriors. Jackson lunged with his blade, but every time he hit Peter’s shield. And whenever Peter tried to riposte, Jackson managed to dodge or parry the strong but slow attacks of his opponent.

But even the keenest and strongest wolf can be hunted down, and a javelin hurled from behind the Trojan line managed to hit true, injuring Peter’s arm. The king of Mycenae dropped his weapon and his shield, as he brought his hand to the bloody wound. Deaton, wisest of the Achaeans, saw their leader being injured, and with a few chosen men he dragged their king back to the camp before Jackson could sink his blade into the king’s neck.

“Peter has fallen! The Achaeans are leaderless!” Jackson called out.

“Call for Theo, bring him over,” Stiles yelled, hurrying towards where his cousin had been fighting. “Let him lead our charge into the camp of our enemies!”

“Rally on me, Soldiers of King Noah!” Jackson kept calling. “Today we take the camp of the Achaeans!”

Jackson and Stiles did not wait for Theo to arrive, and pushed with their men into the Achaean lines. Brett master of the war-cry and Mason of many devices led the Greek soldiers’ counter attack, but the tide was already turning, and the Trojans kept pushing back, one step at a time.

The Achaeans soon fell back towards the gate, with Mason and Brett covering the retreat of their men, and Camden and Derek behind the palisades, unleashing arrows and darts on the charging Trojans. By the time Theo arrived to the battle, an uncountable number of Achaeans were dead or injured and abandoned in the battlefield the mercy of the Trojan soldiers. Theo, tamer of horses, charged like a mighty bull with his spear, driving a bloody wedge into the Achaean line, trying to get to the gate before they managed to secure it shut, but Brett and Mason coordinated the retreat, and halted Theo’s advance.

But fate still did not favour the Achaeans, for the Trojans managed to injure both Brett and Mason, who fell to the ground and had to be dragged by their men as they retreated behind the gate.

“Look, and look well, soldiers of King Noah!” Theo shouted with a wide and smug grin, already savouring the victory in front of him. “The enemy has retreated behind their walls. But I say tear them down! Pull down their ramparts and break the gate! Now is when we break through and get rid of the invaders!”

***

“Isaac!” a voice called inside the Achaean camp. “Call for Isaac and for Derek, and for famed bowman Camden!”

Soon Isaac arrived to the gates of their camp, while his warriors kept showering the Trojans with darts and arrows.

“What’s going on?” Isaac demanded. “Mason! Brett!” he added when he saw his two comrades bleeding on the ground.

“They have been injured by the Trojans,” a solider cried. “They protected our retreat and we dragged them in when they fell.”

“Isaac, son of Telamon,” Mason gasped, his face deprived of colour. “Theo is coming to the gate. He will try to break them down and overwhelm our line.”

“They will not set foot on our camp,” Isaac vowed, clenching his massive fist.

“They’re coming for our ships, mighty Isaac,” Brett warned, blood pooling around him. “They want to burn them. That’s been their plan all along!”

“Take these two men to the care of sweet spoken Deaton,” he ordered his soldiers. “Let they rest next to Peter under the ministrations of Asklepios, so they may return to fight tomorrow. And call for Derek!” he added as he stood up. “And my beloved brother Camden, the mighty bowman.”

Isaac felt the rage boil inside him at the daring of the Trojans. With long strides he walked towards the gates, which at that very moment were being battered by the enemy soldiers. Camden and Derek soon arrived to the spot, and Isaac asked them to man the ramparts, that he would deal with whatever came through the entrance. And just as he was speaking those words, the gates exploded in a hundred shards as a massive rock broke through them. Soon after, Theo of the shining helmet kicked the gate down, and the Trojans poured in.

“Isaac, son of Telamon, King of the Islands, we meet again” Theo snarled as the Trojans walked into the Achaean camp.

“This day will not be long enough for you to call this fight off, son of Noah,” Isaac spat back as he pulled his massive shield from behind his back, reminding Theo of how their last duel had ended. “This is the closest you will ever get to our ships, Trojan.”

“We’ll see about that,” Theo grinned as he readied his spear.

But Isaac did not give his opponent a starting chance. Isaac charged first, bashing his shield with such strength that Theo, tamer of horses, had to step back. The Trojan soldiers around them held their breaths. Theo dug his feet on the ground, trying to stop mighty Isaac, but he could not, so he rolled over to the side, causing the Achaean to fall forward. Theo turned around to stab Isaac with his spear, but Isaac had been expecting that, and had jumped out of reach. Now he had enough time to face Theo as he wielded his heavy mace.

Both warriors fought with divine strength and supernatural agility. Three times Isaac managed to land his giant mace on Theo’s shield, and three times the shield survived. Meanwhile, Theo darted forward with his spear, aiming to stab Isaac’s greaved leg, or his unprotected arm, but Isaac always managed to dodge or parry the Trojan’s attacks.

At one point Theo dodged Isaac’s heavy mace and it sank on the floor. Theo threw his bronze spear like a dart aimed at Isaac’s wrist, and the Achaean had to pull back, abandoning his weapon. But Theo had also lost the advantage of his spear, and the two warriors now had to face each other with their swords, both blades exchanged gifts of their previous duel. Isaac slashed savagely forward, keeping Theo on his toes, but the Trojan drew a broad arch with his blade and stopped the Achaean’s attack, and the clash of the two weapons echoed across the battle like Zeus’ thunder.

Theo pushed back, bringing his sword close to him, preparing for a deadly lunge, but Isaac was well protected by his shield of many layers. Having learned the ways of his opponent, and seeing that Theo was no on the offensive, Isaac knew he only had to wait for his moment. So godlike Lahey waited patiently, dodging and parrying all of Theo’s attacks and feints, without attacking back. Theo got increasingly angry, calling his opponent out, and daring him to fight. But Isaac simply smiled behind his shield and let the Trojan wear his patience out. And when Theo had had had enough, and charged forward with his mighty battle cry, Isaac swiftly shifted his feet, lowering his body position, and then blocked Theo’s attack with an upwards bash of his shield. In a fluid movement, at the same moment Theo’s blade connected with the Achaean shield, Isaac stabbed low with his own sword, hitting Theo’s unprotected thigh, and cutting a deep gash that bleed plenty.

With a suppressed yell of agony, Theo fell on his knee, and dropped his blade. All the Trojan fighters around him saw their champion wounded, and their resolve faltered.

“This will not be the day when Theo, of the bronze helmet, dies in battle,” Isaac said as he approached his beaten foe and kicked his fallen sword away from him. “But it is the day he was beaten by Isaac, of house Lahey, at the gates of the Achaean camp.”

Around them, Derek and Camden led the Achaeans with their hymns of victory in a charge that slowly but steadily pushed the Trojans back.

“Now stand up and leave this bloodied ground,” Isaac spat.

Theo could only bite his tongue and hold his words as a group of Trojans held him by the arms and dragged him away from the front line, as Isaac Lahey stood in front of the gate of the Achaean ramparts with his bronze sword dripping Trojan blood.

***

“Hold your ground!” Stiles yelled. “Hold your ground and do not let the Acheans push you back!”

Stiles has fuming with rage. His brother had been wounded by Isaac Lahey, who now stood tall in front of the palisade with a smug grin directed at him. Stiles could only hold to his shield tightly and bash his enemies with his sword. Around him, the number of Trojan warriors slowly moving back was increasing, while the number of confident advancing Achaeans did nothing but increase.

And just when Stiles thought that the day was lost, Jackson charged forward with another wave of Trojan and Thracian warriors, they war cries loudly muffling the hymns and songs of the Achaeans. Jackson stood tall and proud amongst his soldiers, stabbing and slashing at the Greeks from beyond the sea, who had to stop their advance to contain this new threat. Jackson gave Stiles a quick wink, telling him that he had the situation under control, and Stiles ran back to the rear, looking for his injured brother.

Theo was sitting against one of the pines up in the dunes, overlooking the battle below, while Jordan Parrish treated his wounds.

“They day is lost, brother,” Theo said through his teeth as Parrish tightened a bandage. “Your sister was right after all.”

“Our sister is right often, but more than once she has spoken nonsense,” Stiles tried to joke, and Theo only managed a low chuckle.

“Why have you left the front?”

“Jackson is holding the Achaeans back,” Stiles explained. “The battle is not yet lost, brother. We still can march around and surprise them by the ships.”

“I thought that was my idea, and that you told us that it sucked?”

“I did say that, but now you are wounded, and only Isaac and Derek stand between us and their camp. And right now,” Stiles continued, licking his lips in anticipation, “all of the Achaeans are by the gate.”

“I am in no state to lead the charge now, little brother,” Theo joked. “You’ll have to lead our men. And only the gods can help us with that plan of yours…”

“Leave the gods, aside, Theo,” Parrish murmured.

“No, you’re right!” Stiles added, with his eyes wide in excitement. “You’re right!”

And Stiles kneeled down, dropped his helmet on the floor by his brother, and opened his arms wide.

“Goddess of love, laughter-loving Aphrodite,” Stiles called with his eyes closed and his head back. “Listen my prayer and help us in this time of need. You know of the wickedness of the Achaeans, who do not accept your wishes and want to take fair Allison away from me! Aid my brother, who has been hurt by Isaac! Help our army, so we may defeat our enemies! Help your son Jackson, who’s holding their hordes back!”

_Stiles, son of Noah_ a voice called in the wind. _Man-killing Theo, prince of the Trojans_.

Stiles slowly stood up as the wind around them grew in intensity and warmth. Then directly from the bright sun that shone above, a pure beam of golden light illuminated Theo.

_Theo, today you shall not fall. Today you will avenge the many crimes of the Achaeans, for I, Apollo, wish you victory_.

And as these words echoed softly around them, Theo’s wound began to heal, and a rosy colour returned to his cheeks. Stronger than ever, Theo stood up, feeling the aid of the god flowing through him and, picking up his spear from the floor, marched towards the beach, to take the Achaean ships by surprise.

***

Isaac was fighting on the parapets against the soldiers that Jackson had rallied. Men on both sides were dying by the score, and the ramparts were slippery with blood. The Trojans were close to getting the upper hand, but the Achaeans had managed to stop their counter attack. Without Theo, the Trojans would not stand a chance that day, but something inside told him that their fight was not quite over.

“Isaac!” Derek called. “Isaac, quick! The Trojans have launched an attack on our ships! Take your men and stop them before they reach them. I will hold Jackson and his warriors here.”

Isaac cursed silently as he kicked a Trojan down the palisade and pulled his sword with a sucking noise from a fallen enemy. With a loud roar he summoned his warriors and rushed towards the beach palisade.

He ran as fast as he could with his long strides, his men rushing close behind him, and he got to the beach just in time to see the last Achaean soldiers being put down by the Trojans who had escalated the wall.

“Theo, son of Noah!” he roared, still running. “I thought you had had enough of us today!”

Theo right then jumped off the rampart and landed on the soft sand of the beach, his legs soon sprayed in surf.

“Isaac, son of Telamon. I was hoping for a rematch,” Theo spat as he held his spear tightly.

“Camden, dearest brother,” Isaac grinned without turning around, “fight with me today, and we will make our father proud.”

“It is always an honour to fight with you, brother!” Camden replied with a twin smirk.

With that, the two brothers and all the warriors that had sailed with them from the Kingdom of the Islands charged into the Trojan forces, stopping them just before they reached the first of the ships. Camden led the warriors to the palisade, hoping to contain the Trojans and prevent them from pouring in, while Isaac and a few chosen companions dashed towards the ships, intercepting Theo and his men.

The fight was tight and bloody. Camden and his warriors managed to contain the Trojans, but only for a while, and eventually they had to pull back and abandon the ramparts for good. As they retreated, they joined forces with Isaac and his warriors, who had secured a perimeter around the ships.

Many Trojans laid dead at Isaac’s feet, their blood and their bodies washed away by the waves. None of Theo’s warriors got close enough to even touch one of the planks.

“Why don’t you stay away and head back to your father, Theo?” Isaac challenged when he saw that the Trojan leader had not attacked him yet. “Haven’t you been beaten enough today? Or are you cheating like your brother?”

“My time has not yet come, Achaean. Perhaps yours has, though.”

“You’ve made it this far, Theo. Well done, Trojan… but why don’t you leave our ships and our camp while you still have legs to run with?” Isaac taunted through his helmet.

“I think that it’s time you ran back to your ships before each and every one of you dies here today,” Theo barked, pointing at Isaac’s men with his spear. “But if you want to waste the lives of your soldiers, then be my guest. I will gladly help to send them to the underworld.”

“Why these empty threats to us Achaeans?” Isaac spat with a fake hurt voice. “All those threats, all those offers… We are not new to battling, you know? Oh, _yes_, you know that, right? I could have sworn that the last time I saw you, you had to be dragged away by your men…”

Theo growled and held his spear tight, ready to launch it.

“Perhaps if you have been wining today at all,” Isaac continued taunting, “it is by chance of Zeus’s desires. I can see that you can’t wait to lay your hands on our ships but, sadly for you, I’m standing in between you and them. _Again_.”

“You will not be standing for long.”

“Oh, maybe. Maybe. But just remember this, Trojan: even if you manage to lay a single finger on our ships today, soon we will lay our hands on your city. Your time is coming to an end, so you should beg Zeus that your famous horses are faster than hawks. Or else you’ll see what us Achaeans can do once we enter your city.”

“You really think you can scare me with your empty threats, Achaean? It is us who are inside your camp and about to burn your ships. Today is the day we bring doom to your people, Lahey. And if you dare stand against my spear, then I shall have to tear your soft skin off your unworthy bones and offer your flesh and blood to the dogs and birds!”

“Yeah, yeah… ‘sing to me, goddess’ and all that… You’ve been reading your poetry,” Isaac mocked. “Let’s see what you can really do.”

***

“Scott,” Liam asked nervously, looking outside their tent towards the rest of the Achaean camp. “Can’t you hear the noises of battle? It is the second day we hear the cries of falling men and the bashing and clashing of arms.”

Bare-chested, Scott let go of the blanket that had covered his shoulders and walked to the flap of his tent to where his friend was.

“Don’t worry about the quarrel of the Achaeans,” Scott said as he placed an arm around Liam’s waist and landed a soft kiss on the other warrior’s head. “This is all their own folly. A punishment for what Peter has done to me.”

“We came here to fight, Scott,” Liam insisted.

Scott nuzzled his nose against Liam’s hair before bringing him close to his chest in a tight but tender hug. “Let the Achaeans fight their war,” he added before planting another kiss on his friend’s neck.

“I can’t sit here and see our friends and companions fight without us!” Liam turned around to look with his sad blue eyes at Scott, who looked down fondly, before kissing Liam’s lips.

“If you must, go and talk to Deaton. Find out how are Mason and Brett and Derek. And find Isaac and make sure he’s safe,” Scott added with real concern.

Liam tiptoed to kiss Scott once again, before letting the other warrior give him a last hug. With that, Liam walked out of the tent, and left Scott behind, polishing his armour and weapons.

When Liam, dear to Zeus, reached the Achaean camp, he was not expecting to see so many fallen and injured warriors. Taken aback by the sight and the closeness of the combat, he rushed towards Deaton’s tent, where he knew he find out if any of his friends were injured.

“Wise Deaton, Gerenian charioteer, what is happening? What are the news from the battle?”

Deaton, elbow-deep in blood, turned around with a stern look.

“Late is the hour Scott decides to turn up for the fight.”

“Erm… Scott is not coming. He still refuses to help until Peter returns Kira to him.”

“Scott then needs to reconsider his role in this war,” Deaton said without mincing his words. “Peter and Mason, and godlike Brett are all injured and bleeding. Peter and Camden and Isaac are holding the Trojans back, but they won’t hold for long.”

Liam gasped in surprise. He had never expected things to be so bad.

“Isaac managed to injure Theo,” Deaton continued his rant. “But Jackson, counsellor of the Trojans, and magnificent Stiles have kept on fighting and pushing us to the palisade. As we speak, the Trojans have breached the ramparts and are threatening our ships. When will lion-hearted Scott decide to fight? When will the champion of all Achaeans put his petty feud behind and fulfil his oath to recover Allison? When will the swift-footed son of Melissa stand tall against the Trojans?”

Liam had no reply to these questions, for he knew that Scott’s pride was his dangerous weakness, and he had been badly affronted by Peter.

“I cannot answer for Scott, wise Deaton,” Liam admitted. “But I will speak to him again, and beg him to help in the fight.”

“Go to Scott,” Deaton said as he turned around and continued dressing wounds. “Tell him what you’ve seen. Tell him that none of this would be happening if he were fighting. And may the gods open his eyes to his great betrayal.”

***

Isaac and Theo fought for many long minutes around the first of the Achaean ships. Theo even got close enough to have the timbers within reach, but Camden and the Achaeans stopped any warrior who dared bring any flaming torch to their prince, so the ships were still safe.

“Give up, Theo,” Isaac said from behind his shield as he prepared another mighty strike with his spear. “Your battle here is over! Turn around and return to your wife and your sister.”

And just as Isaac lunged with his spear, Theo spun on his heel and brought his heavy sword down on Isaac’s shaft, breaking his weapon. As the spear broke, Isaac lost his balance, and he would have fallen flat on the sand had his brother Camden not pulled him back. Right where Isaac would have fallen, Theo had nailed his sword.

Right at that moment, the Trojan soldiers finally brought a torch to Theo, who lobbed it over board and set the ship on fire.

“This is just one ship, Achaean,” he spat at Isaac and Camden. “Soon your entire fleet will burn!”

Before the Trojans could advance any further, a cloud of arrows fell on the beach, pushing Theo and his soldiers back. Isaac and Camden turned around and they saw Derek coming to the rescue with his and Peter’s soldiers.

“Not today, Trojan,” Isaac said as he stood up and brush the sand off.

Theo saw his men retreating behind him and he cursed. His face was red with rage, and the veins on his neck were pulsating. With one last glance, he ran away from the ships to the safety of his men just as Derek walked into the beach.

“What’s happening? What are these reinforcements?” Isaac asked. “Is Scott finally fighting?” his voice went up in expectation, and a hopeful smile drew on his face.

“It’s just me, sorry,” Derek apologised with a smile. “We haven’t heard back from Scott, but we heard the cries of alarm and I brought all of the reserves to help you.”

“Scott is _still_ not coming?” Isaac deadpanned, as his hope turned into sour disappointment and quickly evolved into rage.

“There’s no time for that, brother,” Camden insisted. “Theo is falling back, but the Trojans still have the palisade. We must drive them back!”

Isaac nodded, as he unsheathed his sword. He gave a nod to Derek and Camden, who soon ran after the Trojans that still controlled part of their palisade. He gave one last glance back to their camp, knowing that further beyond Scott was sat, refusing to fight.

“Damn you, Scott,” a single tear fell from his eye. “Damn you and your stupid pride!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it has been ages!


	9. Iam nosces ultrix

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Poseidon helps Isaac turn the tide, and Liam leads the myrmidons against the Trojans.

_Iam nosces ultrix quid Troica dextera possit et quantum bello valeat fortissimus Hector!_

_Now you shall know what vengeance a Trojan arm can wreck and how great is the strength in war of bravest Hector!_

Peter stood up, holding his injured side, feeling the pain radiating from all his cuts and bruises. He looked around him in Deaton’s tent, and saw his most trusted companions lying beside him. Brett, master of the war-cry was still unconscious, but Mason of many devices was already sitting up with Deaton’s help.

“What news from the ships?” he demanded through a dry and pasty mouth.

“Peter, son of Atreos, the ships are still ours. Only one of them has been torched,” Deaton said as he finished bandaging Mason’s arm. “Mighty Isaac, king of the Islands, is holding Theo at bay.”

“Do you think our cause is lost?” Peter asked after a pause. Deaton and Mason looked at him in silence. “Have we risked our lives and fortunes for my nephew’s stolen wife only to be pushed back into the sea after ten years? Will Noah show kindness and forgiveness if we ask him to let us set sail now that we still can?”

“Tell him to shut up,” Brett mumbled as he shifted in his stretcher. “Nobody will be able to say that Brett, son of Tydeus, was beaten by a Trojan.”

“And what about the shame and the scorn if we return to our homes and families empty handed?” Mason declared. “They’ll say we fought against the soldiers of King Noah, but that Peter of Mycenae, leader of the Achaeans, preferred to return home like a scolded dog rather than push for the final fight.”

“Queen Malia of the Amazons is approaching,” Peter said in a sullen tone. “News arrived before the Trojans encircled us in our palisade, when we were still in a position to fight their joined forces, but now... If we cannot break through the Trojan lines then we will die; if not today, then tomorrow.”

“We need swift-footed Scott back on our side,” Deaton insisted. “Liam, loved by Zeus, came around earlier, and I told him so.”

“And why will mighty Scott listen to your second-hand counsel when he has not listened to our pleas before?” Brett spat, tired and resentful of Scott’s lofty pride.

“Because this time it will come from Liam, whom he loves and cares for,” clarified Deaton.

“The time to ask Scott has come and gone,” Mason suggested, “but maybe the gods have still not abandoned our cause. Peter, leader of the Achaeans, sacrifice a bull to Poseidon and implore for his help.”

Peter looked around his generals, all of whom seemed to agree that the gods were still on their side and that their cause was just and fair. After making sure that his bandages where tight and that he could move, Peter called for his slave boys to bring him a bull and walked him to the beach while the clashes of the battle echoed loudly behind them.

***

Poseidon punched the table, sending the cups of wine and ambrosia flying around the room. The god of the sea was furious. He took a deep breath and massaged his temples, trying to calm himself down.

“That balance was rigged,” Poseidon decided. Zeus had placed the fates of the two armies on the balance when he declared that no god should help the mortals.

“Tell me one time it wasn’t,” Melissa rolled her eyes.

“I’m not having this,” Poseidon muttered. “This is utterly _unacceptable_.”

“This has been happening a lot recently,” Melissa said as she looked out of her Olympian window down to the plain of Troy, where Theo and the Trojans had pierced through the Achaean palisade and were threatening their ships. “Your niece and nephew have been very involved, to be fair, while your brother, thunder-bearing Zeus, does nothing but turning a blind eye.”

“He was meant to keep it fair!” the ocean god roared. Down below, a small storm engulfed a few islands off the coast of Italy. “And now Peter and Brett, and Deaton the Gerenian charioteer are imploring me for their help with a healthy bull. How can I refuse their sacrifice?”

Melissa looked down again and saw on one side of the camp the Achaeans fighting and begging Poseidon for help. On the far side, she could see his dearest son Scott standing by his tent, waiting for Liam to return to him and their bed. She could sense her son’s rage at Peter still simmering under his calm surface.

“I see you’re plotting?” Hera interrupted as she entered the room, startling Melissa and Poseidon from their thoughts.

“Lady Hera,” Melissa replied with an edge of fear on her voice. “We were not plotting.”

“Oh, really?” she said as she looked at the fruit bowl that decorated the centre of the room and picked up a pomegranate. “That is a pity. I am in the mood for some plotting.”

“Oh… are you now, sister?” Earth-moving Poseidon said with mischief. “And are you sure it has nothing to do with the deeds of that mortal who denied you the golden apple?”

“Oh, don’t worry, brother dearest,” she said as she put the fruit back in the bowl again with a face of disgust and rubbed her fingers gently, as if the mere thought of Stiles had ruined her appetite. “I have plans for him, don’t you worry.”

“Well, my Lady,” Melissa asked in a low conspiratorial voice. “What did you have in mind?”

Hera gave them a mysterious smile before closing the door and drawing the curtains.

***

“Husband!” Hera called as she walked to the throne room, where Zeus, Father of gods and men, was observing intently the fight between Theo and Isaac. “Darling husband, will you stop wasting your time in the affairs of men?”

“I am not wasting my time,” the thunder god stepped away from the window and pulled his beard. “I was simply keeping an eye, making sure that my orders were being followed.”

“Oh, so if I look down I will not see our precious son, lyre-player Phoebos, walking amongst the Trojans again?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, my dear,” Zeus laughed, dismissing Hera’s thoughts. “Apollo? No, no, no… He has more sense than that.”

“It’s just that you’ve been spending too much time with that war recently,” she added as she placed her soft hands on her husband’s divine shoulders. Gently she steered him away from the window. “And don’t deny that you have been partial to the Trojans, even if you know they’ve insulted me and our beloved Athena?”

“The mortals down there have been fighting for nearly ten years, my love,” Zeus argued slightly flustered. “And the insults of mere mortals should mean nothing to the queen of Olympus.”

Hera patted her husband’s hand and smiled, as if that comment were all the reassurance she needed, even if her husband was the first one to smite or metamorphose any mortal who dared cross his path. The goddess walked the son of Kronos with idle chitchat up to their private chambers, trying to calm him down, and distract him from the war down in Troy.

“I don’t know, my love. I think that we have enough columns in the dining room…”

“Just an idea to think about. Now, in any case,” Hera said as she reached their conjugal bed, “come lie in with me. No more talk about Troy, no more talk about mortals. Just you and I.”

Zeus, master of the thunderbolt, stretched his back with a loud crack before sitting down on the bed.

“We… we haven’t done this in a _long_ while,” he said through a lusty grin.

“I know,” Hera said in a suggestive tone. “So let us drink to our health,” she added while producing two large cups from behind her.

“Oh, this is unexpected but welcome,” Zeus’ smile grew wider. “I will drink to that, my queen.”

“My king,” the goddess smiled as they clinked their cups.

As predicted, Zeus gulped the sweet wine greedily, but Hera only took a sip. Together in bed, they soon discarded their robes and kissed passionately.

A few minutes later, a loud snore echoed at the summit of Olympus as the king of the gods slumbered. Hera, clad in a light gown, walked down the lofty corridors until she got to a balcony. She casually dropped her veil down to her shoulders and walked back in.

Down below, Poseidon saw her sister give him the accorded sign and, grabbing his trident, plunged down to the Achaean camp.

***

Camden and Isaac, princes of the islands, led the charge out of their own palisade into the Trojan ranks. Theo, tamer of horses, might have retreated to the rear, but the soldiers of King Noah refused to give an inch, still devoted to their mission to torch the black ships of the Achaeans to force them to surrender.

“Our advance has been halted!” Camden cried as he tried to heave with his shield into the Trojan line without success. At his sides, more Achaeans soldiers were thrusting their spears and bashing with their maces, but the Trojans would not budge.

“We must drive them away, brother!” Isaac yelled.

_Gods above! Where is Scott when we need him the most?_

It was only because of his mighty strength that he had advanced into the enemy ranks, but Isaac was tiring of the fight. The fact that Scott still refused to help his friends and allies, all because of his stupid injured pride and his petty squabble over Kira with Peter, frustrated him. Knowing that all the pain and suffering of his men meant nothing to Scott, the same Scott he admired and loved, was devastating. The Trojans felt his occasional hesitation and their line still held. Behind him, Derek was ordering his bowmen to target the Lydians to their right.

Camden called his brother back to their ranks before he became isolated and surrounded by enemies and, with a grunt of frustration, the tallest of the Achaeans obeyed. The battle at the beach stalled, with the Achaeans lacking enough drive to punch through, but with the Trojans leaderless to overcome their enemies. Isaac was battering his sword down on the skulls of some Thracian spearmen when the sea that lapped his ankles retreated and, in a second, a wall of sea water blasted upwards, surrounding him and sending his enemies flying away.

“What sorcery is this?” Isaac said as he lowered his body position and prepared to lunge.

_Listen, Isaac, son of Telamon,_ the ocean spoke with a grotty voice. _The Trojans have insulted many gods with their crimes, including me._

“My lord Poseidon!” Isaac immediately dropped his weapon and kneeled down. In the Kingdom of the Islands, the god of the sea was the most important.

Black-haired Poseidon walked through the water wall until he was standing in front of Isaac, and instructed him to stand up.

“Isaac, today you will break through the Trojan line here by the sea. You must break through and push with your men towards the hills.”

“We needs Scott for that,” Isaac mumbled. “It has been prophesised.”

“Prophecies will be fulfilled, but at their time and their place,” the Earth-shaker replied.

“Buy lord, we have tried without him and—“

“You shall have my strength and all the power of the crushing waves at your disposal,” Poseidon interrupted Isaac.

The mortal looked at the god, clearly not understanding what he meant, but the son of Kronos simply dug his trident into the wall of water around them and extracted a ball of glistening deep-blue lightning. With a deliberately slow movement, the god placed this ball of energy on Isaac’s chest. The king immediately felt his arms and legs growing stronger, even if he could not see his eyes glowing a deep ocean blue.

“Lead your men,” Poseidon continued, “and search for Theo of the shining helmet.”

Before Isaac could thank the ocean god, the wall of water collapsed. The docile sea was again simply lapping at his ankles. The Trojan soldiers that had been fighting him looked confused for a second, but they charged again, only to be cleared away by a single sweep of Isaac’s silver-studded sword. He kicked one of them into the ground and dropped the full weight of his enormous shield down on his chest, so that the waves washed the sand red in blood. The Trojan soldiers took a ginger step back.

Isaac held his sword up and _grinned_.

***

Liam walked back to the far side of the Achaean encampment where Scott and his myrmidons were camped. As he passed cots and bunks, he had to endure the hostile gazes and insults jeered at him because Scott refused to fight. His shame and frustration only got worse when he had to walk through the piles of dead soldiers that were dragged back from the front.

Liam bit his lip as he entered the tent. He saw Scott still wearing nothing but a towel around his waist. Scott approached him with a loving smile and open arms, but Liam ducked his head and turned away.

“Scott, we must join the fight,” Liam, dear to Zeus, sighed. He had brought this up to Scott many times, but now he had seen what really was happening, and their inaction felt like betrayal to their cause. “I’ve seen the injured men and the heaps of bodies—“

“We came to Troy to wage war, great-hearted Liam,” Scott grimaced at Liam’s comment and walked back to his bed when his friend refused his affection. “Men die in war.”

“Scott, you haven’t seen what’s happening. The Trojans have breached the palisade.”

“That’s Peter’s incompetence,” Scott put his feet up and fished a fig out of a bowl.

“Peter is injured.”

“_Good_.”

Liam’s face hardened at Scott’s reaction. They were miles away from home, across the sea, because of a sacred oath to get Allison back to Derek, but Scott seemed to have forgotten that.

“So are Brett and Mason,” Liam continued. “And only the gods know what is happening to mighty Isaac and Derek, leader of men.”

Swift-footed Scott shuffled uncomfortable on his bed, but refused to look at Liam, who was now beyond caring.

“Listen,” the younger warrior said, trying to supress his anger. “We have abandoned our allies when our foemen are at our door! In their direst time of need the Achaeans look at you. They’re waiting for you Scott!”

“Soldiers know what happens in war—“

“Enough of that, Scott!” Liam yelled, his face reddened. “We came to avenge the crimes of the Trojans, but your refusal to fight is doing nothing to help!”

“I will not fight for Peter, son of Atreos,” Scott stood up, throwing the bowl of figs flying. “I am the injured party here. Peter is the one who offended me, denying me what is rightfully mine!”

“If the Trojans, tamers of horses, ransack the camp they will take long-dressed Kira back with them! They will slaughter all the dark-haired Achaeans and their bodies will be picked by the birds and the dogs. And all your satisfaction for the demise of Peter will be futile because your precious Kira will not be there for you!” Liam was now shaking. “Nor will be Isaac or Brett, or Mason of many talents! And you and I will return to Greece in shame! There will not be enough coins to pay the ferryman for all the souls, and our friends and allies will never reach the Underworld.”

Scott stood there, listening to Liam’s harsh words. Liam was hurt and ashamed, and Scott could not live if Liam was hurt – especially when it was because of him. He was moved by Liam’s words and dropped his head. Carefully, Scott approached Liam to place a hand on his shoulder, but his friend slapped it away.

“We need to _fight_!”

Liam was still fuming, and was not going to accept kisses and cuddles for an answer. Scott deflated and walked to a corner of his tent. Liam’s rage came to a halt when he saw Scott carrying the armour and weapons that Hephaistos had forged for him.

“I will not fight for Peter,” Scott said in a neutral tone as he gently dropped his panoply on the floor. “But I cannot let the oath to recover beautiful Allison be broken, and I cannot let my allies down in their time of need.”

Liam was about to argue once again, but Scott knelt down to fasten his own greave on Liam’s leg.

“Scott?”

“You shall lead the myrmidons today,” lion-hearted Scott said as he fastened the second greave. “Take our men and seek Derek, loved by Ares.”

“Why are you doing this?” Liam objected.

Scott ignored him as he tied the cuirass around Liam’s waist. “Wait for Isaac, son of Telamon, and for Camden, his brother,” Scott said into Liam’s ear. “Lead my men in my place, and make me proud,” he added as he placed the boar-tusked helm on his head.

“The men trust you. They follow your commands,” Liam protested, but Scott was already handing him over his sword and his shield.

“The warriors of Greece will rally around this helmet and won’t see who’s wearing it,” Scott explained. “Divine Athena, wise in battle, will inspire them if you lead the charge.”

Liam was speechless as he digested Scott’s orders, and barely noticed how lion-hearted Scott led him to the door before stepping away.

“Just promise me you’ll come back alive?” Scott said, and Liam, who was standing at the flap of the hut, turned around to see Scott’s saddest brown eyes. Something churned in his stomach at this sight, so he removed his helmet and walked to Scott to give him a long and deep kiss.

“I will.”

***

The Trojan forces by the beach fell back in disarray as from the furthest flank Isaac bashed through their ranks. With every swing of his silver-studded sword and every bash of his shield, mighty Isaac crushed the skulls of many Trojan soldiers and sent them to the Underworld. With every step he took his sandals splashed blood on his greaves, and despite all the darts and javelins the Trojans threw at him, Poseidon’s protection and strength kept him safe.

The Achaean warriors, tired after fighting at the ships and at the palisade, cheered for Isaac with renewed enthusiasm. Derek, king of Sparta, and Camden, son of Telamon, saw mighty Isaac break through King Noah’s lines and soon rallied the soldiers to follow through the bloody canyon he had carved. Slowly but steadily, and following on the path of destruction that Isaac created, the Achaeans began to push the Trojan forces back from the beach and their ships.

Isaac bellowed his war cry, and bashed his sword against his seven-layered shield when they reached the feet of the dunes. He called for Theo and Jackson, demanding retribution. He called for Stiles to step forward to answer for his abduction of fair Allison. But none of the Trojan princes accepted his challenge and they pulled back. So Isaac continued ploughing through like a ship across the waves, leaving behind him a trail of bodies.

Such was the push of the Achaeans, that they forced the Trojan lines to fold back to the pine-covered dunes behind the beach and into the plain watered by the Xanthos river. By that stage, Theo of the gleaming helmet, had established his warriors in a defensive line as he awaited for Isaac and Camden, royal sons of Telamon, and of spear-famed Derek. He ordered his many archers to rain death upon the Achaeans, but Isaac would not stop, and continued advancing with wide blows of his sword.

“Theo, tamer of horses!” Isaac, towering above the Trojan soldiers, shouted with disgust. “We did not finish our fight earlier. Care to finish it?”

But Theo refused to face Isaac, whose eyes glowed with the fire of the sea. He asked for his javelin, and he threw it above his soldiers and aiming directly at mighty Isaac, but the king of the Islands had been observing and he ducked and lifted his massive shield, deflecting the dart and infuriating Theo. And while Theo cursed in frustration, Isaac grabbed a stone from the floor where he had knelt and, with all his might and strength, threw it straight at Theo, who barely had time to lift his shield. The rock, big as a man’s head, splintered the shield and pushed the broken bronze edge into Theo’s flesh, who bled as he fell on the banks of the Xanthos.

The Achaean army saw the enemy champion fall and they all cheered Isaac for his accuracy and bashed their spears against their shields before Derek ordered them to charge forward.

Stiles and Parrish, and great-hearted Jackson rallied around the prince, forming their shield wall around their relative and swearing revenge against Isaac and Derek. The fury of the Achaeans and the might of Isaac were stopped there at a great price in Trojan lives, but for long enough the Anatolian allies to join in the melee and halt the advance of the Achaeans.

“Far-aiming god, son of Zeus!” Theo called as he spat more blood into the turbid waters of the river. “Please, help me again, healer of the gods!”

And his cry was heard, and Apollo of the silver bow flew down to the Trojan plain, and healed the wounds of man-killing Theo who stood up and yelled, calling for revenge, thus spreading fear amongst the Achaean soldiers.

***

The battle had reach a stalemate, but just as the Trojans were gaining the upper hand, the myrmidons arrived to reinforce the Achaean ranks. Cheers of joy welcomed them, and the tired and battered soldiers of Derek and Peter opened a path for Scott’s soldiers. When Theo and Stiles and their noble cousin Jackson saw this, they immediately recognised that the tables were turning, for the myrmidons had earned a terrible reputation during the previous ten years.

“I see Scott approaching!” Stiles shouted in alarm and pointed with his bow. “I can see his helmet. He his charging with his warriors towards us!”

“The gods offer us a present,” Theo mumbled through a grin. “They are offering Scott for us to kill. For so the oracle spoke!” he added louder, so all his men could hear. “The oracle has predicted that if Scott comes to fight he shall die! And if he dies, the hopes and strength of the Achaeans will crumble!”

The soldiers around him jeered and blew their war-horns.

“Jackson,” Theo instructed, “hold our line here as I fight Scott.”

“Will you be okay?” Jackson asked. “What will Hayden and Lydia say if I have to bring your body back to Troy? What will I say to your father, noble King Noah?”

“My day is yet to come,” Theo said with confidence. “And today I will return home with Scott’s weapons as a trophy.”

Jackson nodded, and encouraged his men to hold their position and stop the Achaean advance as Theo tightened his greaves and picked up his spear.

“Brother,” Theo called Stiles. “Come with me and guard this flank while I face Scott.”

“May the gods be with you, brother,” Stiles smiled as he put his hand on his brother’s armoured shoulder. “Make our father proud.”

Both brothers rushed towards their left flank, where the myrmidons had already engaged in combat and killed many good Trojan soldiers. Stiles drew his sword and bashed it against his helmet before charging ahead of his brother to stop the advance of Scott’s warriors.

“Theo!” a voice from within the myrmidons called.

“Today is your last day on this Earth, Scott, son of Melissa,” Theo snarled as he jumped over his men and landed in a wide circle surrounded by myrmidons.

Before he could stand up, Liam was already on him, bashing Theo with his shield and lashing with his spear. Theo rolled away until he was out of reach of Liam’s spear, and then stood up tall.

“I always thought you were taller,” the Trojan taunted.

“Perhaps you were expecting Scott,” Liam said as he took off his helmet.

“And _who_ are you?”

“I am Liam, captain of the myrmidons and, as I learned from my Coach,” Liam gritted his teeth, “the bigger they are, the bigger they are.”

“What does that even—“

But Theo could not finish his sentence because Liam lunged into him, fast as lightning, stabbing with his spear in quick succession. Theo could only dodge and make sure to keep his feet on the ground. Liam kept stabbing.

“Speed alone will not grant you victory,” Theo spat as he feinted to the left and quickly put his shield up, deflecting Liam’s spear away with such strength that the Achaean lost his grip and his weapon. “Let’s try some strength up close,” the Trojan defied with a smug smile.

Liam stepped back while he drew his sword, but Theo was already on him, slashing and stabbing, forcing Liam to adopt a defensive position behind his shield. Theo’s attacks were relentless, and Liam could only use his sword to parry.

“Are you running out of ideas? Is this the best swift-footed Scott could find to stand in his place?” Theo kept provoking.

“I still have some,” Liam yelled as he bashed his shield into Theo’s and, with a deft move, he grabbed the edge of the Trojan’s shield with his sword hand and whirled, pulling the shield away from his opponent. But Liam was not fast enough, and Theo managed to slice with his blade across Liam’s thigh.

Theo nodded as he regained his position and held his sword with both of his hands.

“That was impressive,” the Trojan mocked. “But it’s you who’s bleeding.”

Liam clenched his jaw in rage, hating every taunt and every sneer Theo threw at him. Liam growled as he charged shield first into Theo, but the Trojan prince had expected this, and he dodged the charge with ease. Liam, loved by Zeus, ran too far, and now Theo was behind him while he tried to regain his balance.

“I am quite disappointed,” Theo jibed as he gave Liam time to turn around and face him again. “I expected much more from you, seeing that Scott, the greatest champion of the Achaeans that all my soldiers fear, does not bother with grown-up fighting.”

This time Theo did not give Liam a chance to attack, and charged himself, relentlessly like the tide, denting and splintering Liam’s shield, forcing him back. Liam tried to bring his shield up so he could stab at Theo’s legs, but the Trojan prince had foreseen this tactic: he span on his feet and slashed up with his sword against Liam’s shield arm, cutting deep and spraying blood. As Liam cried in pain and lost momentum, Theo pushed with his shoulder into Liam, who lost his balance and landed flat on the floor. Before Liam could move away, Theo picked a spear from the floor and drove its bronze tip deep into Liam’s body, who died without a cry.

The battle sounds around the duelling titans died, and fear ran wild across the Achaean army at the news of the death of Liam, dearest to Scott. As the myrmidons retreated and the cheering Trojans advanced, Theo stepped towards the body that lied prone at his feet.

“Really, Liam? You thought you could sack our city and run away with our riches and our women? You fool!” he gloated at the corpse. “In all the lands ruled by my father I am the most skilled warrior, and you thought you could beat _me_? Not even Scott could have saved you.”

Theo knelt over and began unfastening the breaches and the cuirass.

“Liam, famous horseman, you will not be needing these any more,” he said as he took the helmet and the armour with him and walked back towards the Trojan camp.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yep... we've reached that point of the Trojan War when people start dying left, right, and centre...


	10. Exsultant Danai

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scott learns of Liam's death and seeks his revenge on Theo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Terribly sorry for the delay!

_Exsultant Danai, Troes sua vulnera deflent, tunc sic amissis infelix viribus Hector_

_The Greeks rejoice, the Trojans weep for their wounds; thus then unlucky Hector spoke to the lost soldiers_

“Praise Apollo!” the Trojans cried and blew their trumpets as Theo walked away from the duelling arena. “Liam has fallen! The myrmidons retreat!”

The shouts of the Trojans shook the spirits of the Greek soldiers and, for a brief instant, the myrmidons and other warriors loyal to Scott hesitated. This was all the advantage the Trojans needed to push forward, encouraged but Jackson and Stiles to drive a wedge into the Achaean lines, and to form a circle around the body of fallen Liam.

Too far to prevent this, Isaac, son of Telamon and tallest of the Achaeans, roared furiously. He threw his helmet to the floor, letting his blond locks fall on his forehead, and wept for Liam, who was too young to be taken, and wept for Scott, because only the Gods would know how much Liam’s death would hurt him. He immediately bashed his silver-studded sword against his shield, summoning his loyal warriors to him.

“Derek!” Isaac shouted. “Derek, leader of men! We must reach Liam!” The tallest of the Achaeans pointed as he led his men in a desperate charge to protect Liam’s body.

Derek, who was the closest to where Theo had killed Liam, nodded. With a handful of chosen warriors, the king of Sparta charged to the spot where the duel had taken place. The fight was bloody, and many men fell to the spears of the hollow-shipped Achaeans, but the Trojans seemed determined to keep the body of the fallen Greek champion as their macabre trophy and to deprive Liam of his rightful funerary pyre.

The fight stalled, and the battle line halted. No matter how much Derek pressed, and no matter how many sons of Troy he brought down, the soldiers of King Noah held their ground. That is, until Isaac, king of the Islands and blessed by Poseidon, broke through their lines. With a mighty roar he punched through the Trojans. He slashed to his right with his blade and bashed to his right with his shield, and succeeded in carving a bloodied path to the body of his fallen comrade, which he protected with his mighty shield, so heavy that no other mortal could lift it. Many Trojans lunged at him with their spears and their swords, greedy as they were to get their hands on Liam’s body, thinking of the many riches that swift-footed Scott would pay to retrieve him, but Isaac stabbed and chopped, and maimed and killed, and no Trojan soldier laid a hand on Liam’s body. Bodies piled and the blood of many Trojans soaked the soil, making it slippery underfoot, but Isaac did not budge an inch.

Stiles and Jackson, seeing that they were about to lose Liam’s body and fearing an Achaean counter attack, dared to push forward. By then Theo, content with Scott’s helmet and the armour, had already happily retreated to the back lines.

“Men of Troy, warriors of King Noah!” Stiles shouted. “Honour my brother’s victory and let us claim back Liam’s body! Only one man stands in between us and our prize!”

“Stiles!” Isaac yelled through tears when he heard these words. “You coward oath-breaker! Come here if you dare and let us decided here the fate of this fallen hero!”

Sties set his jaw and prepared his spear, and was about to charge towards Isaac, but Jackson stopped him before he got too far. At that moment, Derek and his men pushed through the last thicket of Trojan resistance. The Achaeans next secured a protective circle around Isaac who, ignoring the Trojan princes, knelt down and lifted Liam’s body, and carried it back to the Achaean camp.

***

Lydia was observing the fight from underneath an olive tree. Hayden was next to her, fidgeting nervously, and fearing for her husband.

“What is happening, Lydia, daughter of Noah,” Hayden begged over the clash of metal and the wails of wounded men dying. “Is that Theo’s glistening helmet? Is he the one fighting mighty Scott?”

The Trojan princess squinted, but she could not tell. They were too far. It was evident from their position that the duel was the focus of the battle, and that the day might be won or lost at that very moment.

“It is,” Hayden exclaimed, recognising truly her husband’s helmet. “That is Theo duelling Scott!”

The two women held their breath during the duel, sighing in relief when the leader of the myrmidons fell to Theo’s spear. Then Lydia and Hayden cheered with joy and they hugged each other, crying sweet tears of happiness. Scott was dead! The well-greaved Achaeans were sure to flee now. The war was over! However, all their mirth turned to bile when a warm wind and a voice in the wind echoed in Lydia’s ears.

Noah’s daughter, cursed by Apollo when the mortal princess refused the god’s affection, went still for a second. She turned around towards the corner of the olive grove where she thought the voice had come from, but there was nothing. She took an uneasy step forward, and the wind and the voice came from a different direction. Lydia changed her course, her eyes still lost in the distant horizon.

“Lydia?”

_Scott is not dead… Fear the wrath of the Achaeans…_

“Oh, Apollo,” Lydia stood still as one single tear ran down her immaculate white cheek.

“Lydia, pray say – what is wrong?” Hayden worried.

“Woe befits the goading Trojans…” Lydia replied, her voice hollow. She sounded very distant. “For it was not the son of Melissa who fell on the field.”

“Lydia, stop that,” Hayden objected. “Today is the day when our luck changes! Can’t you see?”

“I can see,” Lydia said in her same ghostly tone. “Indeed, our luck changes today, for the day has come that the sun will set for my father’s kingdom.”

Slowly, Lydia turned around to face Hayden. Her eyes were lost in the distance.

“Lydia, you’re scaring me…”

Noah’s daughter then blinked and shook her head, as if she had just woken up. Her face soon turned into a mask of terror and without waiting for Hayden, she rushed down to her father’s camp, and to his brothers’ tent.

“Theo!” she screamed down the hill. “Theo!” she yelled through the camp, and into his brothers’ tent. “Theo, brother of mine!

Theo was there, cleaning his wounds and his weapons after his duels with Isaac first and with Liam afterwards. Sitting on a corner was a set of armour which was not his.

“Lydia! Where’s Hayden? What are you doing here?”

“Theo, listen,” she begged. “That was not Scott, son of Melissa, that you killed.”

“I know. It was his eromenos Liam,” Theo said flatly. “But this will send a message to Scott and sink the morale of the Achaeans.”

“You’re an idiot,” Lydia went red and slapped her brother across the face. “Don’t you know what you have unleashed?”

“What have I done, Lydia? Do explain,” he said with his nastiest smile as he rubbed his stinging cheek. “Brought down one of the leaders of our enemies. That’s what I’ve done. I’ve taken my rightful spoils, which I will offer to Father Zeus. I am winning us this _war_.”

“You are as thick as you are strong, brother,” Lydia glared. “I have _seen_ the fall of our city!”

“You have been seeing the fall of our city for the last ten years, sister. Your tales are getting old,” Theo turned around to continue cleaning the blood off his hands. “We have our enemy cornered in their camp. We have breached their palisade—”

“And yet, you are still _here_, and the camp is still manned by Peter’s soldiers.”

The comment stung, but Theo did not let that get to him.

“What would you have me do, then? Has Athena blessed you with the science of battling recently?”

“You should retreat back to the walls of our city. Father has already headed back with Parrish,” Lydia explained. “Call the army and retreat back to safety.”

“Retreat?” Theo yelled, throwing the bloodied rag into the water bowl, spilling its reddish liquid. The tamer of horses then turned around to look straight into his sister’s face with hard, unforgiving eyes. “I will not concede the day to the Achaeans when we are about to finally kick them back to the sea.”

“You are dooming us all,” Lydia said as she spun on her heel and exited the tent.

“The army stays!” Theo shouted behind her, but she was already out.

***

Isaac walked through the fighting men. He walked through the wounded soldiers that were pulled to the back lines. He walked through the gates of the palisade, and he walked through the camp. Wherever he walked, the soldiers of King Peter stood to the side, letting him pass. He was covered in blood and bruises, he had lost his helmet; but what everyone stared at was the dead body of Liam loved by Zeus he was carrying.

The news of Liam’s death had reached the camp faster than Isaac could walk, and he was only half-way through the rows of tents and huts when Scott came running towards him.

“Show him to me!” swift-footed Scott shouted. His face was red, and his voice shook. He had teared his tunic, and the two dark bands that circled his strong arm were clearly visible to all. “Where is Liam?!”

None of the soldiers dared look up or answer his question. Then Scott saw Isaac, and he fell to his knees.

Isaac closed the distance between them and carefully rested Liam’s body on the floor, but Scott snatched it towards him, and held him in his arms as he wept and rocked. The distant battle sounds died, muffled by Scott’s sobs and lamentations.

“Why? Why! Liam, my love, why…” he kissed Liam’s bloodied forehead and tidied his hair as he had done many times before; but this time there was no smile on his lover’s face or a sweet kiss, or the soft touch of his fingers running along Scott’s chin.

Isaac knelt by Scott, crying for his friend, grieving with him. Many other soldiers walked towards that point of the camp, including wise Deaton, and Peter, and Brett, and Mason, who had been injured and struggled on their feet. Many were the soldiers who gathered in the camp around Scott, in silence, not daring to say a word but still grieving with their champion.

“Who did this…” Scott said when he seemed to run out of tears. His voice was harsh and cold like steel. “Who under Zeus’ sky has done this!” his voice trembled with rage. His face went crimson.

“It was Theo, the son of Noah, who did this,” Isaac said in a whisper as he dared put a hand on Scott’s shoulder, a hand that Scott batted away. “He singled him out in combat when Liam stepped too far into the Trojan line. Liam fought bravely, but—”

“Theo?” Scott interrupted with a dry bark.

“Scott…” Isaac tried to calm him down.

Scott knelt and kissed Liam one more time before standing up in eerie silence. He pulled his sword out of its scabbard and picked up a bronze spear.

“Scott, where are you going?” Mason asked as the mightiest of the Achaeans stormed out into the battlefield.

“I am going to find Theo.”

Nobody dared stop Scott, whose pain and grief were fuelling his rage and his anger. His brown eyes, usual soft and warm, were now harsh and cold. But as swift-footed Scott reached the gates, a sea breeze blew across the camp, filling the air with a cool briny smell. The moment Scott sensed it, he knew his mother was looking for him.

Around him, time slowed down. The Achaean soldiers seemed to freeze. The bees and flies hung in mid-air. And, behind him, Scott heard a plea.

“My dearest son, please do not go out into battle today,” Melissa smiled as she begged, throwing herself at Scott’s feet. Her son knelt down and pulled her up.

“Raise, mother. It does not befit a goddess to beg,” his words were kind, but Scott’s tone was still tinted by his rage.

“Scott, sweetheart, you know it has been foretold; if you go and fight the Trojans you shall be slain!”

“Mother…” Scott sighed. “You have told me of this prophecy often, but it is the fate of men to be mortal.”

“But not yours,” Melissa was on the verge of tears. “You have the chance to be immortal, for you were washed in the waters of the River Styx, but you must stay away from this fight.”

“There’s no glory and no honour, in living a long life, mother,” Scott managed to smile, his mind having been made up long before. “And how shall I live my immortal years knowing that I left Liam’s death unavenged?”

“You don’t even have your blessed armour,” she tried one last time, grabbing at her son’s tunic.

“No Trojan will get close enough to harm me, mother. And there is no Trojan warrior who can match me. They don’t know what I can do…”

With that, Scott leaned in to kiss his mother’s wet cheeks and walked away. Time paced up, the sounds of battle again loud in his ears. Behind him, his mother knelt down to cry bitter tears and curse Zeus for allowing this war amongst mortals.

***

Scott marched forth onto the battlefield, bellowing his war-cry above the crashing of the swords and the bashing of the shields. He shouted loudly, calling for revenge and weeping for Liam. The Achaean troops cheered and called for revenge, while the Trojans, who had thought Scott was still refusing to fight, shook in fear. So mighty was Scott’s reputation, and so visible his pain and his hatred, that the soldiers of Noah hesitated n their ranks, and began to fall back.

But Scott would not give them a chance to retreat. Because of Liam.

Once he got to the Trojan lines, he brought death and despair to the warriors of Jackson and Stiles. He slashed and lunged with his sword, hitting true with every attack. And, with his spear, he stabbed and jabbed, killing Trojans and Thracians, and many of their Lycian and Lydian allies. Scott dug deep into the enemy ranks, creating a passage for other Achaeans to follow. Thus, mighty Scott, greatest of the Achaeans, pushed the Trojans back from the dunes and the pine forests.

“Theo!!” he called as the veins of his neck pulsated. “Theo, show yourself!”

Scott’s challenge was unanswered by either Theo or any other of Noah’s generals.

From the crest of the dunes and at the edge of the pine forest, Scott could see the Trojan army retreating in haste, running away from the wrath of the swift-footed hero. At one point, Noah’s warriors had to ford the Xanthos (which mortals called Scamander) in order to get to their camp, but Scott ran as fast as his divine speed allowed him, and in the muddy banks of the river he stood firm.

Scott wept bitter tears as he roared his challenge again, which once more was left unanswered. The panicked Trojans ran for their lives and tried to cross the shallow river, but Scott would not let them. With his sword he slayed and maimed and killed so many Trojans that the river ran red with blood, and while some bodies floated away into the sea to be picked by the birds, most were left there, choking the waters in a gruesome dam.

Such was the massacre of the Trojans at the Xanthos that the river god himself felt affronted.

“Pththian Scott!” the god cried as he stood tall above the mortal. “How dare you litter my course with bodies and pollute my waters with their blood?”

But Scott did not care for immortal foes, and he attacked the god with his spear, a jab that was soon followed by a quick succession of slashes with his sword, that pushed the river god back.

“Today Troy shall fall, and Theo will pay for what he has done!” Scott groaned through gritted teeth, ignoring the god’s concern. Because of Liam.

As Scott fought the god, the Trojans managed to escape, but the Achaeans could not pursue them, as the ford had turned into a white-water mayhem.

“You slay my children and dump them on me,” the grandfather of Tros and forefather of all Trojans cried. With one single fist, the river god rose a wall of water that bashed down Scott and nearly washed him away. “Never has a mortal dared!”

For a few seconds the god and the mortal watched each other with care. Them Scott spat and levelled his weapons.

“I am no mere mortal!”

***

From the lofty and snowy peaks of Olympus, Zeus observed how the tables turned in the war. Until then, the balance between Achaeans and Trojans had been carefully preserved, awaiting for the day when Troy was doom to fall. But then Scott sallied. How could it be that just one mortal could tip the scales so unexpectedly? How was it that Scott could defy fate? Troy was to fall, and Zeus had decreed so, but rage-driven Scott was close to disrupting the pace and the pattern! How could a simple mortal challenge the gods in such a way?

“Hera!” Zeus called. “My dearest wife. And Hephaistos, smith of the gods!”

The other two gods, who had been watching the battle too, promptly approached the throne.

“Please, rush down to the Trojan plain, and stop the son of Ocean-born Melissa from his fight with Scamander.”

“What are you proposing, husband?” Hera questioned knowingly with a smirk. “Are we now to interfere in the war of the mortals?”

“It’s a bit late for that…” Zeus muttered. “But regardless, you need to stop the mortal who is threatening to alter the pace of the world!”

Hephaistos and Hera understood, and with one quick nod, they descended down to Earth.

Scott and the river god Scamander were locked in a never-ending fight, but when Hera and Hephaistos arrived, the immortal was fighting for dear life; such was the strength and the might of Scott, and such the drive of his rage. Because of Liam.

“God-like Scott!” Hera called, but Scott would not listen as he continued to pommel the river god with his sword.

Hephaistos had to stand in between, pushing Scott away with his smith’s hammer, and giving Scamander a chance to recover.

“Lion-hearted king of Phthia!” cow-eyed Hera insisted. “Cease your fighting, for your grudge is not against divine Xanthos.”

“He’s standing in my way!” Scott shouted, dripping wet and heaving in exertion. “No one, mortal or divine, shall stop me from reaching that treacherous scum Theo, who murdered Liam, loved by Zeus. Theo who, furthermore, had the audacity of stripping his body off _my_ armour!”

While Hephaistos calmed the river god (who was happy to stand back), Hera tried to reason with Scott.

“Will you defy the will of the gods? Will you rush to the walls of Troy and tempt fate? Has your mother not warned you about what shall happen if you seek Theo?”

“It is easy for the gods to discuss fate and death with us mere mortals,” Scott had calmed down, but he still eyed the river god who quietly retreated from the fight. “Our lives matter nothing to your kind.”

“The lives of mortals matter a great deal to the Olympians. We are also bound by fate—”

“When immortality is yours by right,” Scott interrupted, “honour and glory lose all meaning. But for us to be remembered is the only way to live forever.”

With that, Scott glared at the river god one last time before barrelling forward though the ford and onto the dry banks of the Trojan plain, where the enemy camp was now abandoned. The gods watched undaunted as the mortal climbed to the other side and roared loud enough to be heard from the lofty battlements of King Noah.

“_Theo!_”

Ahead of him, the Trojan army was already retreating into the safety of their walls, just as the bronze-armoured Achaean crossed the river and flooded the plain.

“Derek! Bring me my chariot!” Scott yelled when he saw the king of Sparta approaching him. “I need my chariot!”

***

“_THEO!!_”

Noah called Parrish and, together, they walked to the palace terrace. News had got back to Troy that Theo had defeated one of the Achaean’s great leaders in single combat, which was soon celebrated. It took a few more minutes before the rumour confirmed that Liam, Scott’s favourite, had been killed, and that Theo had stripped him off his armour, and was bringing it back.

It did not take much for Lydia to burst into the palace with Hayden close behind her. Lydia fell to her father’s feet and begged him to call Theo back and to apologise to Scott for such an affront, but King Noah dismissed Lydia’s pleas in the same way that he then ignored his daughter’s warning and her vision.

Now that Scott was demanding revenge, the King of Troy was reconsidering his earlier actions.

“Parrish, your eyes are keener than mine,” the king said as he leaned forward. “What can you see? And where are our lines?”

Jordan swallowed and stepped back in dismay once he saw from that vantage point the true consequences of Scott’s sally. The camp beyond the river had been abandoned, the army was pouring back into the city. God-like Scott, champion of the Achaeans, was roaring his challenge from the far end of the plain.

“Scott has finally joined the fight,” Parrish told his king. “Our army is in retreat.”

Noah cursed and smashed his fist against the limestone blocks. He took off his crown and threw it across the terrace, rattling loudly at the feet of his daughter and his sons’ wives. Allison picked up the circlet with care, and took it back to Stiles’ father, but when she got to the edge of the terrace she saw the Trojan debacle.

“King Noah,” Allison said without concealing the worry in her voice as she handed back the crown, “can truly just one man cause the tide to turn and to push back your army?”

“It can,” Lydia said dryly, her eyes fixed on the battlefield. “But only when that man is the one who can avoid fate and force the hand of the gods. Only when it is Scott McCall. It has been prophesised…”

Allison immediately left the terrace, fearing for Stiles’ life. Hayden ran with her, leaving Noah and Lydia alone with Parrish in the royal balcony.

“Call them back,” Noah said angrily though gritted teeth. “Call them all back! My dearest sons, Theo of the glistening helmet, and magnificent Stiles, and also Jackson, son of Aphrodite. Call them all back and shut us in. Call them back!”

***

“_THEO!!_”

Scott’s challenge echoed off the walls of Troy. All the soldiers who had sought refuge and safety heard it. Jackson and Stiles stood by the walls, looking at each other as their men entered the city.

“Where is Theo?” Jackson worried.

“He’s covering the retreat,” Stiles explained. “He was unable to stop the army when the men began to flee, and he was the last to leave the camp.”

“Scott is looking for him,” Jackson said in a clearly accusatory tone. This all was Stiles’ fault, for abducting Allison. “The son of Melissa will not stop. Not after what happened today.”

“Scott can come here and bash his head against the walls of my father for all I care,” Stiles scoffed. “He won’t get any further. And he won’t have a chance to lay a finger on Theo.”

Jackson frowned at Stiles’ apathetic remark.

“You think your brother will refuse a direct challenge? You keep your brother’s honour in so low esteem?”

“My brother will never refuse a duel. You have seen him fight mighty Isaac not once but twice.”

“Isaac is no Scott,” Jackson replied dryly. The Trojan warriors kept pouring into the city as they spoke.

Stiles and Jackson glared daggers at each other for a few silent seconds, and their staring contest was disrupted when the silver sound of the Achaean horns reached them. The two princes turned around to see the core of the Achaean army, led by Derek and Scott on their chariots, forming ranks at the far end of the plain.

“Blessed Aphrodite, dearest mother,” Jackson prayed in a whisper, “help us in this day, and forgive our crimes against gods and mortals…”

The Trojan soldiers froze for a second at the sight of the enemy army, but Stiles and Jackson bellowed their war-cry, inspiring the warriors of King Noah to regroup and to defend the gate.

“Stiles!” a voice held them back before the princes marched out to look for Theo. “Stiles, my love!”

“Allison! What are you doing here?” Stiles turned around just in time to hold his wife in his arms, hugging her with all his love and kissing her softly. “The Achaeans are at our gates again, you should head back with my father. Where is Parrish?”

Jackson looked at his cousin and rolled his eyes before marching to lead his warriors.

“Lydia has had a vision… She has seen the fall of Troy! She has told me about the wrath of Scott and the bloodthirst of the Achaeans! She says today is the day—”

“Allison, my love,” Stiles said, cupping her face in his hands and brushing her cheeks with his thumb. Together like that, the war and the fighting around them blurred and disappeared. “My brother is our mightiest warrior, and he is adored by Zeus. The Achaeans are the ones who have injured the gods and insulted the decision of blessed Aphrodite. Fate is with us. No mortal can go against fate!”

“What if Scott can?” fair Allison ventured.

“Scott is only a man…”

It was then that god-like Scott challenged the Trojans again. “Theo! Come forth and fight me!!!”

***

“Theo! Come forth and fight me!!!”

Theo heard Scott calling him again, but he was still running towards the walls. All Theo knew was that by some divine intervention Scott was halted at the river ford, and that gave Noah’s army enough time to retreat. The camp, abandoned in a rush, was now in the hands of Peter’s warriors, who were led by Derek and by Scott – Scott who kept calling for him, demanding retribution. Because of Liam.

But Theo could not fight just yet. He was not a coward, but he knew when the odds were not in his favour. Scott, maddened by rage and grief, would fight chaotically and almost blindly. He would be too dangerous, and Theo understood that the fate of his people rested on his shoulders. He knew better than to be foolishly tempted and taunted.

Up ahead, Theo could see the Trojan army forming ranks outside the gate. He could see Jackson leading the spearmen and, to his left, he could see Stiles marching out to command the swordsmen. Theo gave a quick order, and from the tight ranks of the Trojans came a throng of slingers who rained lead and rocks a few yards behind Theo’s back, forcing the pursuing Achaeans to hold back.

This diversion was only momentary, but Theo, tamer of horses, gained enough time to re-join the core of the army.

“Slingers, keep them away!” he shouted as Jackson came towards him. “I don’t like this.”

“I have seen Scott fighting the river god,” Jackson said, his face expressionless as he surveyed the Achaean troops, still kept at bay by the slingers. “This is not going to be pretty.”

“THEO!”

Scott’s voice was heard about the hurling of the slings. The Achaean army halted but Theo ordered the archers to join the slingers.

“Keep the line. I must go and speak with my father,” Theo said, and Jackson simply nodded.

“THEO!!” Scott called again as he paced up and down the Achaean line, waiting for the Trojan to show himself. Theo, however, kept walking through the Trojan soldiers, making a beeline towards the gate.

“_THEEOOO!!!_” Scott called a third time, his voice distorted both by grief and pain and by rage and anger. “I’m standing in front of your army! Three times I’ve called you, and you still refuse my challenge!”

The Trojan prince stopped at this. The warriors that surrounded him looked at him without hiding their shame. How could their leader refuse a direct challenge? Was not he the famous tamer of horses? Was not Theo the one who kept mighty Isaac at bay for an entire day?

“Theo,” a familiar voice called him. Suddenly a smirking Stiles stood in front of him, even if Theo was sure he had not been there before.

“Brother? What are you doing here?”

“I’m reminding you of the words you told me once,” Stiles said. His voice was a suggestive purr, and Theo could only nod and listen. “We could finish all today. _You_ could. In single combat.”

Stiles turned around and disappeared into the ranks of the Trojans, tamers of horses. His words echoed in Theo’s head. He could put an end to the war… he just needed to beat Scott. Theo smirked and turned on his heels and headed straight to the no-man’s land where Scott kept calling for him

“Theo!! _Theo!_”

The Trojan soldiers opened a path, through which Theo marched forward, but it was when he got to the front and _saw_ Scott standing by his chariot that he knew that he had been tricked. There had been a reason why he was heading back. He knew that he wanted to avoid this duel. The man in front of him was maddened by the eirines, the three creatures from Tartaros that punished criminals. Scott had ripped his tunic and thrown his helmet. His face was reddened by rage, the veins of his neck pulsated, and his eyes were wild. Only a goddess could have tricked him like this, convincing him to face Scott and to forget about his original plan.

But it was too late to pull back. The Trojan warriors had closed ranks behind him. It was only him and Scott in the battlefield.

“Scott, son of Melissa, king of—”

“Fight me!” Scott interrupted.

“I propose a truce for a single combat,” Theo tried again.

“I take no truces from oath breakers,” Scott spat, his voice glacial and unforgiving. He fumed as he paced up and down, clearly trying to stop himself from charging at Theo directly.

“We can put an end to this war if—”

“Fight me!” Scott demanded again. His voice was hoarse, and his eyes red.

Theo turned around to look to the top of the walls, where Hayden and Noah, and his sister Lydia, were probably watching. He looked at his city and his soldiers. He saw his brother and his cousin in the ranks, ready to strike. But Theo also sensed a change in the air. The wind stopped, the temperature rose, and the air dried. The scorching sun shone directly above, as if the gods themselves wanted to see the duel better.

With a sigh, Theo prayed silently to his ancestors and all the gods of Olympus to keep him safe and to give him strength. When he opened his eyes, he noticed that he only had his sword with him.

“Theo!!” Scott demanded again, gripping his weapons tightly.

Then Theo, of the glistening helmet, charged.

The Trojan prince charged, sword first, feinting only very briefly to one side, before trying to spin around to stab Scott with a back-handed attack, but Scott saw through his stratagem and, with one single and swift attack of his spear, injured Theo’s leg. Famous Theo tripped over and fell to the ground with a muffled groan. Scott’s foot landed heavily on the Trojan’s hand and forced him to release the sword. Before Theo could do anything about it, he felt the tip of a blade on his back.

“Listen, Scott,” Theo tried to negotiate as he turned around. “I… I accept my fate. I accept my destiny,” he sighed. “I cannot expect you to spare my life, but please… I’m begging you for my father and my wife. Please allow me to have a proper funeral. Please don’t—”

“You don’t deserve that,” Scott spat. “You don’t get to say that! _Liam_ did not get to say that!”

Scott’s last words were so loud that all the warriors gathered there heard them clearly.

“You don’t understand,” Scott now said in tears, even if his knuckles were pale from clenching the sword so tightly. “This? What I am feeling now? My rage, my _fury_…” Scott huffed the last word. “My rage would drive me now to hack your flesh away from your bones and eat you raw! You cannot even begin to understand the agonies you have caused me!”

Theo knew there was nothing else to say. He closed his eyes and dropped his head. As he extended his arms wide with his palms facing to heavens, he thought of Hayden.

***

Scott drove his sword through Theo’s neck, down into his chest, straight into his heart. A gash so wide and deep that blood squirted out and pooled immediately around the lifeless body of Theo. With a sucking noise, god-like Scott pulled his blade and threw it into his chariot, from where he pulled a length of rope.

In sepulchral silence, swift-footed Scott tied the leather straps around the ankles of Theo, securing them tightly, so he could pull the body with him. When he was close enough, he tied the rope to his chariot and, with his eyes fixed in the horizon, he flogged his horses. Behind him, the body of Theo, famous tamer of horses and once strongest champion and prince of Troy, was dragged through the dirty plain, over and over again.

Because of Liam.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we're here! Finally we have reached the ultimate Achilles/Scott-Hektor/Theo face off! (Take that, Theo. This is for killing Scott!). I know that I've changed some bits, but the outcome is the same. It was all for dramatic purposes.
> 
> The end is nigh!


End file.
